


Long way up

by gypsy_banshee



Category: Camp Camp (Web Series)
Genre: Accidental Bondage, Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Dystopia, Alternate Universe - Post-Apocalypse, Animal Death, Biological Weapons, Hiding, M/M, Moral Dilemmas, Murder, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Road Trips, Sexual Content, Snakes, Survival, Threats of Violence, Violence, aggressive pacifism, ecology issues, like really, major irritation, mostly Dystopia
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-06-13
Updated: 2020-01-04
Packaged: 2020-04-11 16:33:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 8
Words: 24,599
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19113526
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gypsy_banshee/pseuds/gypsy_banshee
Summary: A new world is not a place for soft and weak ones, Max  established this long time ago. He got used to live on his own, and he doesn't need  companions with complete lack of survival skills.Seriously, one apocalypse was more than enough.





	1. Trap

**Author's Note:**

> Hey, hi! So this is gonna be a story taking place in the post-apocalyptic world with evil government, aftermaths of wars, abandoned areas and people trying to survive in there. Nothing new, I suppose. Dystopian motives included.

Max pulled off an old fabric mask from his face. To be honest, it did nothing to protect him from dust. He looked around, feeling tired. He was standing on the slope and as far as he could see there was just endless windfall, white from dust and cinder, withered grass and gray rocks underneath. Max hated this view. Not that he had something he loved.

He never regretted the fact that the world had gone straight to hell – he regretted there was still something left of it. Well, the survived humanity has all opportunities to invent another weapon and then die in attempts to get rid of it.

 

He felt no difference when everything had changed after the war. Lack of food and clear water, sickness, looting, and murders, as a ghetto kid he had had to deal with it since his very birth. Now ghetto became a new rule for everyone who managed to stay in the cities. Max didn't expect any indulgence. The new government, the Alliance, had nothing to offer people like him who were outcasts without education, connections or money. They were left waiting for mercy outside the city walls, trying to survive on poisoned lands and dreaming about getting back into the society that threw them out like trash. The Alliance offered them one thing only: a uniform, a metal tag and a tiny ration for labor work at their warehouses and factories. The Alliance promised they all would get citizenship and would come back to the cities after the expiration of their contracts. Max pretty soon realized they wouldn't expire at all, but rations and workers' patience were ending very fast. Discontent was constantly growing, there were a few strikes, and when the feds went from threats to real actions and started shooting unarmed people, Max ran away.

 

That's how he stayed in the dead zone. Funny, but it was full of life in its meaning. People here struggled for their place under the dim sunlight, too. Max hanged around wild caravans and markets, delivering stuff from one to another, stealing from warehouses and then selling the stuff. He was always capable of getting to places others tried to avoid, he knew how to hide and how to act so no one would ask him unwanted questions.

 

He heard stories about areas that stayed miraculously untouched after the war. He heard fairy tales about the resistance and the rebels who tried to fight the Alliance. Max didn't believe them, they were just stories. He believed one thing only: people were dangerous no matter which side they stuck to. 

 

It was the end of autumn, and he had to decide what to do next. Last year he joined a wild wagon train. It turned out to be unprofitable and dangerous - they were spotted by the Alliance drone. This time he left the inhabited areas behind and came to abandoned ones, far from nomadic wild markets and government factories. Max had been here before, the previous year he lived here for a month in a crumpled old van. According to his calculations, the van was nearby. It was almost evening, and he hoped he would get to the place until dark. He went a bit farther the slope and, finally, saw the familiar outline of the van. Max went down cautiously, listening to dead silence around him. Who knows, the van may be already taken this time. He was so close he could hear the subtle hum of the wind in hollow walls when he heard another noise. Max stopped and snatched the sickle from behind.

 

He hardly ever had a firearm with him unless he wanted to deliver or sell it. Most of it attracted too much attention, and he could manage without it while dealing with sick animals and, what's more, it wouldn't protect him from the feds' weapon. If he had a choice, Max would rather contrive and slit the fed's throat rather then have an open firefight with them. He made slings and darts and he was fond of the sickle with razor blades soldered in it. The thing had never let him down.

 

He went from the van, almost crawling to the ground, and saw the dried bushes moving. Dry branches were cracking under someone's feet. Or paws. It was either a human or a sick animal. Max preferred the latter. If it is a human, it's someone like him, and he's dangerous. He clutched the sickle and prepared for the attack, but no one came out. Max cut a few sticks with the sickle to get a view and saw a man who was sitting on the ground, holding his leg. He looked around, saw Max, and his frightened gaze turned almost cheerful.

He exclaimed, “Oh, gosh, finally!” He sounded relieved.

Nobody was relieved to see Max.

The man said, “I mean, I... I just can't get rid of it.”

He pointed at his foot. Max looked closer. The man's foot was caught in a trap. It was old and rusty, but it still slammed shut, just like a claw. Its metal broke the sole in a couple of places. The boots were good, the feds usually wore something like these. Max approached, not lowering his sickle, and the man kept on looking at his from his place, still cheerful and a bit surprised. Not just his boots – all his clothes led to the thought about the feds, but he didn't have the Alliance emblem on his stuff. 

 

Max can take the vest and the pants, his are terrible. The boots are too large for him, but they would go just nicely at any market. Max squinted evaluatively, and the man looked at the sickle in his hand. His smile faltered.

“I...” He moved his arm, and Max saw that he was clutching some sort of a bag to his side.

“What's in there?”

The man looked at the bag as if he just noticed it. “W-what?”

“The bag,” Max pointed at the bag with his sickle. “What's in the bag? Weapon?”

“No, I've lost my ax, I've got only this,” he took out a penknife, the most pathetic Max had ever seen. He looked from Max to the bag, confused. Max opened the bag with the blade.

“I'll have a look.”

The man nodded, looking at Max with curiosity.

Max asked, “What are you even doing here?”

“Oh, that's the thing,” the man smiled and winced, pulling the injured leg closer to himself. “I don't remember.”

“Nothing at all?”

“Well, I remember who I am and everything, it's just.. the destination. I.. I was going along the ravine and I think I tripped and fell and got hit.  I remember that I woke up in the morning, went to the west and got into the trap. And then I got here.”

 

Max nodded. The blade of the sickle slid over the metal flask, a bunch of papers, a flint and a hank of packthread. Not bad. He moved the items aside and crouched in front of the bag, hiding his excitement. There were three packages of a blue powder, the one that was used for water purification. Max didn't even know its actual name, he just knew that it was priceless, especially in its pressed form. Hell, it was almost impossible to get! A real treasure. Max greedily looked at the man's vest with multiple pockets, and the man's eyes reflected fear for the first time. Looked like just now he realized that Max wasn't going to help him. He must have tripped hard if he was expecting any help and compassion.

 

Max could take his bag and clothes and then leave. On the other hand, this guy could be not alone here. Plus, he was looking at Max with a helpless lamb expression. Damn him. What is he supposed to do? _Don't hit a man when he's down._ An old rule of the old world still worked with some amendments, _“Don't hit a man when he's down. Hit him later when you need it.”_ Max had no problems following this rule. That was why he helped him on his feet.

 

And he immediately regretted doing it.

 

The man grasped his hand with delight and jumped onto his feet, completely ignoring the trap.

“Oh, gosh, thank you so much! I can't even imagine what I would do without your help!”

Max just turned around and went to the van. The man followed him.

“I'm David, and you?”

He made a step with his injured leg and shrieked. Max winced and ignored his question. David caught on with him, limping, and repeated, louder, as if Max was deaf, “I'm David, and you are..?”

“Max,” his name felt  alien and dead on his tongue. Max didn't know why he said it to David. He didn't understand why he even asked. It had no value and carried no information. So if David wanted to know it, he let him know.

 

Max entered the van first. Maybe David counted on his support, but they didn't have any agreement about this yet. They didn't have any agreements at all, and Max was still thinking about the different outcomes of this case. One of them included a  punch and a quick stab.

David followed him into the van. He looked around, shifting onto his feet, and sat onto an old empty box. David clutched his bag and looked at Max who dropped all his stuff in the dusty corner and stretched his back after a long day. David coughed and stretched his leg, attracting Max's attention to his problem.

“I tried to pull it off, but the spring is clamped.” David bent his knee.

Max gave him a quick look. The dark-green cloth of his pants was soaked with blood in one place. David tried to keep on his stupid smile, but Max saw that he was in pain. The bone itself was probably intact, but his leg was still damaged and squeezed with iron. Not that Max was bothered. He had his interests in this matter.

 

If David has forgotten how this world works, he better start to remember it.

 

Max said lazily, “I need anesthetic. Then I can try to unclench it with my knife.”

David looked at him in confusion, and Max explained, “It will hurt if I have to cut the flesh.”

He was talking about the worst outcome possible on purpose, watching David with dark satisfaction. David paled and moved his leg closer to himself, but he still didn't get the message. Max sighed, irritated.

“I won't waste my supplies on you, David.” He had almost nothing left.

David patted his vest pockets. “Oh, I get it,” he put out a small case. He opened it, and Max held back from cursing. The case was full of ampules of all kinds. Shit, this guy was a real storehouse. Trying to look indifferent, Max crouched in front of David and picked two familiar ampules. David moved his leg from Max.

“It's _m-04_.”

Max didn't realize first he was talking about the drug he chose. “So?”

“It's _m-04_ , it isn't appropriate in this kind of situation.”

Max rolled his eyes. “Relax. They're all the same.”

He attached the ampule to the dart syringe he found in the case. He always used only these ones.

David jumped in his place. “I don't want my leg to stay numb until morning! And why did you take a veterinary syringe?!”

It was funny and annoying at the same time. David just couldn't stay silent.

“Max, do you hear me? And why don't you use antiseptic?”

Max grabbed his foot, making him yelp. “Why can't you just shut up? I've told you I know what I'm doing.”

He looked at David sullenly, and David fell silent. But the moment Max bent over his leg, he muttered, “It's not how you should do it.”

Max clenched his teeth and drove the needle in right through David's boot. He was about to inject all the liquid inside the syringe, but David pushed him away.

“What are you doing?!”

 

Max cursed and threw the syringe on the floor. David was yelling and stomping his uninjured foot while Max was unclenching the spring with the blade of his knife. At first, he wanted to spare both boot and leg, but after another stream of exclamations from David, he just cut the boot from one side to another. David was giving him advice, he tried to break away, but eventually, Max managed to complete his task. He dropped the trap on the floor.

“Done.”

David rubbed his leg, looking indignant. The trap left small wounds on it; the wounds looked like small bites. It was hardly pleasant but not deadly. Now he just had to wait for the numbness to subside.

David looked at Max angrily. “You said you knew what you were doing!”

Max shrugged. “I pulled your leg out from the thing, what's wrong?”

“I don't feel my leg, Max! You injected too big dosage of the wrong drug, now I can't even feel if I have suppuration or not!”

Max got on his feet and put away his knife. Maybe he should just grab his case and bag and throw him from the van. 

After a minute David said, “ Thank you.”

Max nodded and went to check things in his rucksack. David fidgeted, making the old box crack.

“So... are we staying here tonight?”

 _'We'_. Huh.

“ _I_ stay here.”

Max took the leftovers of sublimated food form earlier, and quiet David was watching him as if expecting that Max would kick him out. After all his shrieks it would be just a logical thing to do, but Max decided to wait with it.

David asked cautiously, “Max.. can I stay here, too?”

“Yeah. Go ahead.”

It was getting dark outside. David took out his flask, and Max finished his dinner, paying him no mind.

David shuffled. “Where are you going tomorrow?”

Max thought quickly of the possible answer. “To the nearest market.”

“Market? Do they have a transmission station in there?”

Max wasn't sure but still nodded. David thought for a moment and asked, “Can I... can you take me with you? I'll pay for your service. I don't know these areas that well.”

Finally. He remembered that any help requires payment. 

“Sure,” Max pointed at David's bag. “I need that powder. One package.”

_I need everything you have. Except you, you moron._

 

David smiled. “It's a deal, then! Thank you, Max!”

 

They closed the van's door and made some sort of beds on the floor. David was lying with his vest under his head, clutching his bag. Max was lying at the opposite wall. He kept on opening his eyes and looking at David. Max clenched the handle of his sickle. He always had problems with falling asleep if there were other people around. David was unarmed ( and incredibly helpless), but this thought couldn't beat Max's old habit. Still, Max knew that David risked much more than him. Max would never sleep with his back facing any other human.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!^)


	2. Beast

It was almost sunrise when Max managed to fall asleep. He woke up to find that David wasn't in the van. The thought that he had left after grabbing all the valuable possessions crossed his mind, but then Max heard footsteps. He also could smell the scent of smoke. Max jumped onto his feet and got outside.

 

“Good morning, Max!” David cheered him, crouching at the bonfire. “My leg is as good as new, thank you once again! Oh, and can you imagine, I remembered that-”

Max cut him off, “Yeah, whatever. What the fuck do you think you are doing?”

David looked between Max and the bonfire. Well built, by the way.

“It's... it's a bonfire.”

“Yeah, and what are you burning it for? Wanna get us noticed?”

“I...” David faltered. “You're right, Max, I'm sorry, this was stupid, I'll put it out right now. I just remembered something and started to make it remember things better and...”

 

Max gritted his teeth and went to the van to fetch his stuff. He got a small packet of sublimated food from his rucksack. He opened it, poured water from his flask in there and shook the packet.

David noticed, “The boiled water is safer.”

Max didn't answer to that and began to eat without waiting for the concentrated food to dissolve completely. Who boils water, anyway? What is the purifying powder even for? David's suggestion sounded weird, one might think they were at the picnic. Maybe for David they were. Max looked him over from the corner of his eye. A clean face with slight stubble, intact clothes aside from his boot. Actually, it was already repaired. Somehow David had pressed the torn sides of it together. David followed his look and explained, looking smug, “I did it with a stapler, I have a portable one. Very convenient!”

 Max just hummed in response, putting away the rest of his food. He wanted to grab David by his shoulders and shake him to make everything he kept in his pockets fall to the ground.

 

Instead of it he took his rucksack and said, “We have to go northwest. The market is about seven days from here. Maybe a bit more.”

 

Max would do it in five days, but with David, it might take much more. Max led the way. His mood was ruining every minute. He started to regret his choice. He should have robbed David yesterday, and that would be it. David was suspiciously good at doing certain things – like making a bonfire, and what was more, he was able to get up without Max hearing it. What else can he do? What other skills does he have? Max could only hope he wouldn't turn out to be one of those psychos that look like nice guys until they plunge an ax into your back. Fortunately, David had told him that his ax was lost.

 

Even if David wasn't a psycho, he was not all there for sure.

 “I've grown up in the place with the rocks just like these ones, it's amazing! Oh, I remember it very well, but I didn't forget it, in fact, I remember almost everything! Yes, I remember my district, school, and job. And Gwen. And Jasper!”

 David wouldn't shut up for a second, and Max got tired of him after an hour, not even listening to his babbling.

 “What about you, Max? How did you get here? I mean, I understand why you're not in the city, I mean, not everyone stayed there, I mean, it's your personal business, but it's pretty far from all the markets, and I always thought that-”

 Max stopped him, “David, I'm gonna be honest – I don't care about what you thought. And I don't want to talk about myself, either.”

David said, “Okay!” but Max felt David's eyes on him as if he was waiting for Max to change his mind and start gabbing.

 

David spoke up at noon. “We are going the wrong way.”

“What?”

“You said we have to go northwest, but we're going west **.** Look at where the sun is now. See?”

Max continued to walk, stepping over a fallen tree trunk.

“I know where we're going.”

 

He was wrong. They came to a deep ravine that, he knew, was way too far west from the rout they needed. They had to turn back. Max was angry because David was right. David didn't comment on it, and it made Max even angrier. He walked faster, on purpose, so David would have trouble to catch on with him because of his leg. They spent the night in a hastily made hut, changing each other at the lookout, and Max slept for half of an hour at very best while David was sitting outside, murmuring something to himself.

 

The next day his mood got even worse.

 

“Good morning,” David, already awake, fresh and peppy, was drawing something on the ground with a small stick. “Max, I've analyzed our previous route. Just as I've told you, we have to stick to the north, a bit to the right from here. And, by the way, you can always check the direction with tree bark, it's a good method and it still works, give it a try!”

Max walked right onto his drawn map, paying no attention to David's hurt look.

“Are you ready? We have to go.”

He didn't even have breakfast, too irritated with everything and especially with David. David grabbed his bag and hurried after Max.

“Max, there's no need to be mad because I was right! Yes, you made a mistake, but it happens to everyone!”

Max broke a dry brunch that got in his way and turned to David.

“Look, David... if you didn't understand: I don't care about what you think. And I don't need your fucking advice.”

David gave him an admonitory look and shrugged as if Max was just incorrigible.

 

Max got anxious. The suspicion that David was apsycho in disguise changed into paranoia that someone could follow them because of the bonfire. He was mad at himself for these stupid fears, and he was completely infuriated by David's careless look - the guy looked like he was walking in the city park.

 

In the afternoon they stopped to fill their flasks with water from a stale spring. Max finished filling his and was closing the lid when he saw something moving in the yellowed grass on the left. He snatched his sickle immediately and made a step towards the movement. All of a sudden a bird flew from under his feet, screeching loudly. Max cursed and put the sickle away. He looked at the shabbycraw with distaste. Nice, he's getting scared of fucking birds, what's next? He clenched his teeth and went forward. He saw a nest with motley eggs in it. He stepped on them, paying no attention to the bird's desperate croaking. He heard David stopped behind him. He turned to tell him to hurry up, but David stood, looking at Max with horror and astonishment.

“Why did you do it?”

Max moved on. “It got in my way.”

“There was no need for this, you could just walk it around!”

Max didn't answer. David muttered, “I don't get it..”

 

By the evening they got to the rock, dug in shells. Perfect, they were moving in the right direction now. They stayed in the deep notch in the rock that looked almost like a small cave. They were having dinner, and Max was satisfied with the fact that David had stayed silent almost all day. He hoped it would stay this way for the rest of their journey, but his hopes were in vain.

 “I still can't understand why you did it.”

“Did what,” Max poured the concentrate from the pack into his mouth.

“You killed them! What for?!”

It took a few seconds for Max to realize what David was talking about. About the damn nest.

“I've told you – it got in my way. I stepped onto the fucking nest because it was on my way. Will you back off or what?”

“It was wrong.”

“Whatever. Like I care. I don't give a shit about what you're thinking, wanna get to the market – shut the fuck up.”

He said this quietly, but firmly **,** putting in the words all the anger he had gathered inside during the last two days. It worked. David didn't speak anymore. Max didn't see his face properly in the dark, but he knew he wouldn't try to blather.

 

This time he fell asleep, lulled by the sense of mean satisfaction. At the sunrise, he was awakened by the sound of footsteps. They were moving not towards him – from him, out of the cave. Max opened his eyes and looked around: his stuff was untouched, what was more – there was a package of blue powder he had asked for his service. But David wasn't there.

 

“Moron.”

 

Max put the package into his pocket, feeling relief mixed with a tinge of disappointment. He didn't have much time to rejoice David's departure: he heard a yell outside the cave. It was high and loud, and it was probably heard miles around. It was David, and he was calling for him. Max put his forehead to the stone wall of the cave.

“For fuck's sake...”

 

Whether David got in the nearest pit or found another trap, he wasn't going to shut up. It wasn't that hard to find the way, navigating by his voice, and in the place where the rock got higher and narrowed into the gap, Max was met with a spectacular view. David climbed onto the narrow ledge in the gap wall, and a wild boar was pacing in front of it, wheezing and digging the ground. Looked like David tried to escape, locked himself in the dead end, started to climb and stuck in the middle: he couldn't climb higher and he couldn't get down because of the boar.

 

He saw him and exclaimed, “Max!”

But Max didn't budge. The boar didn't see him, continuing to dig the ground under the wall David was clinging to. Max wished he could stop time so he could just sit and watch the rock crumbling under David's feet, watch him desperately holding onto the wall, watch puzzlement finally finding its way to his expression. It usually took about three seconds for people to realize who they were dealing with when they had to deal with Max. David couldn't figure it out even in three days. He was looking at Max with expectation, ridiculous and irrelevant in this situation and this world.

 

Max made a step back; David's weak smile faltered, and he could finally see the despair in his eyes. Oh, that was great. Damn, he came to realize that no one was going to help him or save him. The lesson is learned, welcome to the world of the apathetic assholes. Max made another step back, and a branch cracked under his foot. The boar turned to him, and Max jumped onto the small ledge in the rock he spotted from the very beginning. It was lower than the one David was standing on, but he could climb up out of the gap from here.

David shouted, “What do we do?”

Max didn't answer him, thinking of the best way out of this. The boar wasn't that big and, judging by the dark foam at his maw, it was very sick. It was astonishing it had even survived in these conditions. But as much as it was weak, it was insane and dangerous. As if proving Max's thoughts, the boar ran and bunted the wall below David. Sure, they could wait until it injured itself, but it could take too much time. Max took out a folding stiletto from his inner pocket. It was thin but sharp and long, just as his plan required. His plan was a risky one, but he had done this before.

Max broke a slice of rock from the crumbling wall and threw it at the boar. The boar turned to him, looking in his direction with red eyes. It barely could see anything, it was almost blind. David tried to go down, the boar felt the movement and immediately went back to his part of the gap.

“What are you doing, stay the fuck still!”

Max threw another rock, this time bigger. He needed the boar to aim at his part of the gap, but, ironically, it just kept on attacking the other side of it. Max threw a few stones and, finally, the boar turned and ran into his direction. Max waited for the right moment when the beastpoked its muzzle into the rock below him and jumped onto it. He plunged the stiletto into his side with one sharp move and, when the boar shrieked in pain and tried to throw him back, plunged the knife in between his eyes. Max managed to roll away from the body, shaking in a dying cramp.

 

David was screaming all along while Max was killing the animal. He went down and passed by the dead beast, looking at it with a mix of fear and pity. He was shaking.

“Thanks.”

 Max pulled the stiletto from the boar's head and clenched his teeth. He went back to the cave. David waited for a moment and hurried after him.

“Max, I'm so grateful you came to rescue me. I'm sorry, I shouldn't have...”

Max didn't answer to that. Then, David added, “But it doesn't change the fact that yesterday you did the wrong-”

Max stopped abruptly, and David bumped into his shoulder. David was taller than him, but Max easily grabbed him by the lapels, making him haltin place.

“That's it. Either you shut the fuck up and keep this shit for yourself or leave."

 Max looked David in the eyes, clenching the stiletto in his hand; dark red droplets were falling to the ground. David nodded without saying a word.

 

Max was grateful to the boar: David stayed silent all day. Max was about to call it the best day of his life. They stayed for the night at an old fallen tree; its roots were upside down and created a natural roof above their heads. Max was eating his sublimates, and David just sat a bit farther, hugging his knees and the bag. During the day Max saw that David was limping, but he didn't comment on this. He also noticed that David wasn't eating. He took a packet of sublimated meals from his rucksack and tossed it to David. The packet hit his shoulder, waking him from his musings.

“Dinner,” Max pointed at the packet.

David looked at it and shook his head. “No, thank you, I'm not hungry.”

His voice sounded strange, but Max decided not to dwell on it.

“Suit yourself,” he returned to eating. “But we have a route to go tomorrow.”

“I think I can stretch my supplies until the end of the journey. I already owe you for your... help today.”

 

Max chewed his sublimates without looking at David. He felt that for the first time David got to him, even if he didn't intend to do so. He thought that he had to pay Max for rescuing him.

 

What was the price of human life? In Max's opinion, it was incredibly low. His own life was worthless and meaningless for sure. And the _normal_ life – it would be just priceless, impossible to pay for. Anyway, there couldn't be any talk about payment. David was talking nonsense.

 

“Don't be stupid. You don't owe me anything. It's just – next time I won't go after you. It's not my duty to get you out of the shit you drag yourself into.”

David smiled softly. “Thank you. I mean I-” he stopped. “Just thank you.”

He took the packet.

 

They made two beds from the tree branches. Even in the dead forest there were noises and rustles Max got used to catch with his ears in his sleep, clutching the handle of his knife. This time he heard something else. David was facing away from him, curled up. Max was sure David was sound asleep when he heard a quiet sob. Max lifted on his elbows to look at him but lied back.

 

What could he do? Ask him “Hey, what's wrong?” He never acted this way, no one ever asked him such questions. He didn't have anything to comfort David with. There was no comfort and consolation left in their world. 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!)


	3. Symbol

They made a step towards each other - or more like David made a step back, finally accepting the fact that Max wasn't interested in his opinion, advice and moral principles. He just followed him without trying to talk or scold him. But it didn't mean David stayed silent. 

 

“Oh, hi!”

 

David was talking to _trees_. He was talking to goddamn bushes and insects he managed to spot on the ground. He took them in his palms and stroked them, murmuring gibberish. Whenever he caught Max's stare, he silenced or talked quieter.

 

When Max gave him another look after a conversation with another aphid, David said, “I'm sorry, I just like talking.”

Max smirked involuntarily. “I've noticed.”

“And I've noticed that you don't like it,” David smiled and said hastily, “but that's okay! Everyone is different, I understand.”

Max sighed. Maybe he should repeat his previous words to David but do it politely and civilly, the way David preferred to say such things to Max.

“Look, David... I've already told you, I usually don't talk to people that much. I'm not into all this communication thing. I'm on my own.”

 

_It's not you, it's me._

_No, it's you, you chatterbox._

 

“It's just - if we both don't expect us to become friends or something, it will be better for everyone. For me, and for you, too. Trust me.”

David nodded and suddenly shone with a smile. Max frowned. Did he even understand what he had just said to him?

“What's that?”

“Nothing! I remembered Gwen.”

“You just remembered her?”

David shook his head, “No. Gosh, I never forgot her. Just remembered because of our conversation, she's my friend, you know.”

Max hummed. He vaguely recalled David speaking about some Gwen before.

David said, “She is the one I have to contact to when we get to the market. I remember all the required information!»

Max didn't have anyone to contact, he didn't have friends, and he didn't want to talk about it.

“Well,” he almost squeezed out the words, "good. Maybe you'll remember something else.”

 

David was his age - he had told Max about it for no reason, among all the other stuff – he was almost twenty-four, too. Seemed like that was the only thing they had in common. Max decided not to talk to David without actual need. But, when they were going up the slant and David began to fall behind **,** Max asked, “How's your leg?”

“It's fine!” David sounded too chirpy.

“You sure?”

David said, after a moment, “It hurts.”

Max frowned. David hid this fact from him. Not that Max felt responsible for the condition of his leg, but he suggested to make a halt earlier than usual.

“You better check it now.”

David sat on the ground and, wincing, pulled off the boot from his injured leg. Max was displeased to see that one of the small wounds started to fester.

«Damn, looks bad.”

“Nothing to worry about,” David examined it. “It's not a very dangerous abscess. Do you have a bandage?”

Max shook his head.

“I'll make it myself, then,” David pulled off his vest and jacket. Underneath it he had a loose shirt, already cut in few places. David took his pocket knife and cut a strip of cloth from the shirt. He put out the case with medicine from his vest, rummaged in ampules and soaked the stripe with liquid from one of them. He wiped his foot and quickly taped it up, tying the cloth on his foot like a sock. Max didn't have time to appreciate how skillfully he did it - he noticed something else. There was a tattoo on David's forearm – a circle with a tree inside it. Max hadn't seen this symbol anywhere before. David put on his jacket and pull on his boot as if nothing had happened.

 

“Done!”

 

Max was about to ask him about the tattoo but stopped. It was stupid to ask David such questions after he straightforwardly let him know he's not interested in him and his stories. It must be some stupid thing, as everything else connected with David was. Max went ahead, up the slant, annoyedat his curiosity.

 

The landscape had changed. The fallen wood was replaced with a low shrub. It was easier to get through it, but they were much more observable here. If Max was alone, he wouldn't worry, but it looked like David didn't know how or when to hide, and it was unsettling. Still, he had to admit David wasn't that helpless. He was good at certain things like orienteering – Max swallowed his pride and asked him if they had leaned way too much west or not. Despite all the foolishness, David was a useful companion. Could be. In theory.

 

 

By the evening the got to the abandoned highway. Most of them were destroyed, damaged, and this one wasn't an exception. The covering had burst, and its cracks were filled with gray dust. But even in this state, the highway remained an actual road. Max knew that this one was used by wagon trains and sometimes even the Alliance vehicles. When David was about to walk along the highway, Max stopped him.

“Wait.”

Right in front of them the highway made a turn, went up a low hill and then went down again.

“We won't go along the road. If there's someone over there, we'll go roundthis part.”

David nodded.

“I'll go and check if everything is clear,” Max pointed at David, “Wait here.”

“Okay,” David obediently sat on a round rock farther from the roadside.

 

Max crouched and went up, hiding in the low shrub. There were people down the hill: a merchant van was standing right at the roadside.

 

Max knew this kind of booths. He usually sold the found or stolen stuff in them. What was good about this type of exchange is that no one asked him unwanted questions. Max thoughtfully looked at the van. He had little sublimates left, and David's were already running out. The meat of the local animals was toxic: he had tried it once. He had survived but didn't want to experience this ever again.

Approaching the van, Max took one pill of blue powder from the package David gave him and broke it into four small pieces. He put away three quarters and left only one. He rubbed it in his fingers so it wouldn't look too clean. He went to the van and knocked onto the metal lid of the closed window. The window opened, and Max was faced with a gun. He showed both of his hands free of any weapon and said, “Sublimates and bandage.”

The gun was put away, and Max put the quarter of the blue pill in thenotch belowthe window, shiny from polishing. Big fingers in the rubber gloves took it. After a few seconds, the window was opened completely, and Max saw the owner of the booth – a man with a beard. His red face was crossed with scars.

 

He looked at Max, squinting.

“Nice stuff. Where is it from?”

“Market. Why?”

The man chuckled. “How many sets?”

“Four, standard pack.”

The man disappeared inside the van, looking for the packets of sublimated food and bandage. Max was nervous. He never bought sublimates for someone else since he traveled only on his own. Suddenly he heard a quiet noise in the distance – something like shuffling. He barely kept from cursing when he saw David; he emerged at the highway, looked at Max and disappeared again.

The man returned with the sets. He followed Max's gaze and asked, “What's that?”

“Nothing.”

The man placed the packets through the notch **.**

«Look, I see you're a smart one. I don't want to arrogate your stuff, but I can help to make a profit of it if you... have something.”

“What's that, then? The powder?”

 

The man smirked. He put something out of his pocket and handed it to Max. It was a piece of cloth; Max unfolded it. There was embroidery with the same symbol he saw at David's forearm: a circled tree with beams around it. The sign was embroidered with coarse threads. The cloth and the stitches were dirty, with droplets of dark blood on it.

“Do you know what it is?”

“No.”

“The Resistance,” the man pointed at the embroidery. “It's their symbol.”

Max shrugged. He hoped he managed to look indifferent.

“So I was thinking,” the man spoke lively but quieter as if he might be heard. “The feds began to pay for the capture of the rebels. Dead or alive. I've heard the Alliance even gives  citizenship for cooperation in such cases.”

Max returned the cloth to the man and picked up his rucksack.

“I don't trust the feds.”

The man shook his head. “Who knows. Still, keep it in mind. You don't even have to contact the Alliance guys, there are people at the markets who can do it for you. I know a couple.”

He looked at the cloth and said, “They are crazy, that's for sure. This one fought to the bitter end, cut one of the guy's shoulder while we were taking him...”

 

Max went back to where David was waiting for him. He was pacing back and forth, kicking small pebbles under his feet. He saw Max, stopped and smiled.

Max went to him quickly and hissed, “I've told you to stay in here!”

“You weren't coming back, I was worrying!”

David gave him an apologetic look, but after everything Max just heard it was infuriating.

 

So, that's how it is. The Resistance exists. Even more – one of their members is standing in front of him with his hands clutched to his chest like an anxious mom.

 

Max grasped the straps of his rucksack.

“Let's go.”

He took the bandage from his pocket and tossed it to David who caught it with cheerful, “Thanks!” Max wished he could toss something heavier at him.

 

Does David remember about him being the Resistance member? If so, why didn't he hide his tattoo? What if he doesn't remember about it?

The most important question: what the fuck is wrong with the Resistance if David is their member?

 

“David,” Max was talking calmly and slowly, “Have you remembered anything about getting in the trap? What had happened to you before that?”

David answered sadly, “I lost my walkie talkie, messed up with coordinates.. and that's it.”

David almost cut himself on the end. Was he hiding something? Max waited for David to catch up with him.

“So, you don't even remember whose side you are on?”

David was confused. “What do you mean?”

“Are you for the Alliance?”

“No! Of course, not!”

Damn him.

Max decided to ask it right away. “And why didn't you tell me that you're the Resistance participant?”

David shrugged. “You didn't ask.”

Max stopped. Was he kidding him?

“Are you fucking serious?! 'you didn't ask'!”

David got indignant, "You didn't want to talk about anything, You told me to shut up!”

 

Max walked faster, ahead of David so he was left behind, preferably, forever.

“Max, wait! Do you support the Alliance?”

Max shook his head. No one here did.

“Well, that means you're against them!” Max could hear David smiling without even looking at him.

He will murder him. Right here and right now.

“I'm not _for_ the Alliance and I'm not _against_ them, I'm on my own. And I don't want to wait until you choke me as your ideological enemy or something...”

“Don't be silly, Max, I would never do such a thing!”

“Whatever. I don't need extra problems.”

“Max, you're the target for them, too, you know. We're all the same for the feds, trust me.” David used the word, and it sounded so condescending it was nice to hear.

“There's no any _'we_ ', David.”

David answered calmly, “There is.”

Max stopped. David walked closer to him, looking at him with delight as if he had just told him a big secret or revealed a mystery.

“Are you... are you completely nuts? You think you will recruit me or what?”

David smiled. “It would be awesome!”

 

Max couldn't take it anymore. He did what he had wanted to do for several days in a row: he punched him.  David grabbed his jaw, looking at Max in bewilderment.

“What was that for?!”

Max clenched and unclenched his fist. He can add another one.

“Fuck you, moron.”

David said softly, “I can get to the market on my own. I understand that you're scared.”

Max was ready to drill David with his eyes. He had already found out how his tone affected David – his quiet and threatening tone, and he loved to use it on David, loved to see him backing down and retreating.

“David, do I look like a person who is scared of anything?”

David answered, “Yes.”

Max couldn't believe his words. David said, “Everyone is scared of something, Max. Even you. It's a normal thing, it's... it's good! It means you're alive, you're not like... like them.”

Max shook his head. “ I don't care. And I'm not scared, got it?”

 

Like hell he will make himself a coward in front of a person that squeals because of the dead nestlings. He isn't scared or frightened, and it's not for David to decide.

 

David caught up with him in a few minutes.

“Max, no one will look for me! I'm not... that important.” He mumbled, softer, “And the headquarters are probably just happy that I'm lost.”

Max smiled, knowing that David couldn't see him.

“I have no doubt.”

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!) And hey, any feedback would be really appreciated!


	4. Shadow

“We have an initiation ceremony with the passing of the staff! We've borrowed this rite from theYakama tribes.”

“Sounds like bullshit.”

“No, it doesn't!”

David looked at Max resentfully and tripped over the rock.

 

Max started talking to David, eventually. It turned out to be enjoyable in his own, sadistic way.

 

“You see, Max, representatives of traditional cultures have always been closer to nature than so-called civilized society. Protection of the extant environment and renewalof the damaged areas is the main goal not for the Resistance only but for all people, too, even if they haven't realized it yet.”

David was walking a bit ahead of him, looking into his face to make surethat Max heard his reasons **.**

“Well, I don't know,” Max looked to the side lazily, hiding his ardor, «I think all this environment or whatever it is should be burnt with napalm. The sooner the better.”

David stopped, shocked by his words. Max barely managed to hide his grin. Damn, he was so easy to play. Now, when they were walking side by side, he could see the display of all the emotions David couldn't hide at all: he raised his brows in astonishment or frowned with indignation. 

It was fun.

“I don't understand how one can think of destroying wild areas, Max! It's not their fault people are at war!”

“Shame. But this is the only way to wipe outpests like you and me from here... someone even worse, too. Total cleansing, once and for all.”

Max wasn't just getting to David here, he was telling the truth: he had always thought that it would be better to burn everything both in the cities and outside them.

David almost flared, “No! I... I don't believe you believe it! You...” it finally dawned on him, “you are saying this on purpose, aren't you?”

It had been two hours.

“Congratulations.”

David stared at him with his eyes wide open. He stepped aside and walked 'separately', sulking. God, he should have done it two days ago. He had used the wrong ways to shut up David.

 

Max couldn't get how on earth David ended up in the rebel ranks. Although, judging by his stories, the Resistance had much more in common with a summer camp that with an actual movement that was fighting the government. Maybe it was just David and his perception of the world. Max wouldn't be surprised if his comrades had knocked him out and had left him in the woods just because he was unbelievably annoying.

 

He looked at David who was quietly singing something under his nose.

“Have you ever used a weapon?”

David stopped singing and nodded.

“Yes, sure,” it seemed he had already forgotten he was angry. “I had a crossbow, and I have a vet gun now. I've left it at the headquarters... And I've lost my ax.”

“Yeah, I remember that. You were... assigned to the mission or what?”

David faltered with the answer.

“Okay, I get it. It's just... how the hell you don't have anything with you?”

“It wasn't a military mission.”

It was a good reason, for David. Max found it incredibly dumb.

“And? Does it matter? One can't just give up carrying a weapon around, especially if he's a rebel.”

“Max, it's not that easy to get a gun or something, we-”

Max interrupted him, “You don't have to get it, you can just make it. There are things a child can make.”

He had spent years in the wild areas and knew that five-year-olds from any market were able to make a decent spear or sling.

David clutched the strap of his bag.

“Not everyone can do that.”

“You have to learn them, then,” Max tried to prove his point, “Don't you have training or test for your recruits or something...”

“We can't test the recruits, Max,” David answered softly, but it was obvious that Max's fair comments made him uncomfortable. “We can't select people, you know? We welcome everyone, we try to organize it all, but... There is a psychologist, a chemist and a vet in my squad, what can they possibly know about fighting? And, after all, the Resistance tries to end all the battles and weapon tests. Peace is our primal goal.”

“It doesn't matter what your goal is,” Max kicked the rock under his feet, “You can't reach it without training and drill. You all must be able to stand for yourselves.”

David frowned. “Sounds like a dictatorship.”

“And you wanted to beat the Alliance with a guitar song?”

“No, Max, it's-" David sighed. "I just don't want the Resistance to become another Alliance, that's all.”

Max didn't answer to that. All this exalted matter sounded like nonsense to him. Max always believed that fighting the Alliance is complete nail-biting, but David's approach to this case was just suicidal. Hopefully, since he was an idiot, he might be the only one to stick to it.

 

They went down into the deep ravine in the morning and kept walking along it all day. It looked like a canyon and stretched several miles ahead. A dirty stream was running on its bottom. The water was terrible to look at, but its murmur reminded of the old world with clear lakes and rivers. Bald tree trunks above partly hid the ravine from the dim sunlight, making the shadows slide on the ground. They stopped for a halt. Max was eating his sublimates, eying David: he was sitting beside the dry cane, holding his flask and looking despondent. It seemed their latter conversation saddened him. He didn't even notice the gray bug that was crawling to his foot in anticipation of David taking it in his arms with squeaks of delight. Max spotted crooked bushes right behind David. Their lower part had been submerged under the water for a while, but now the roots were just hanging in the air. One of them was knobby, a solid bough was running up from it. It wasn't too thin or too thick and suited perfectly for Max's idea. He took out the knife and went closer, choosing the side so he could cut it from the roots. David turned his head and was watching him with curiosity. Max cut the bough and cleaned it of all the twigs and bark, narrowing it closer to the grip. He twisted the club in his hands, pleased with its weight and the way it felt in the swing. He handed it to David.

“Done. Not the highest grade but will do for now.”

David took the club in his hands as if it was the latest model bluster.

“Oh, Max, thank you!”

“It'll be no help with a boar,” Max turned away from David who was looking at him with admiration. “But with someone like you, it may work.”

David stroked the bate, mumbling something.

Max noted, “It would have been better if it had been dried at the fire.”

 

Max was planning to get out of the ravine and reach the abandoned field by the end of the day. He kept on checking his marks – stones, trees and hollows to make sure they were going in the right direction. Something was troubling him. The ravine wasn't a highway, but it was unsafe, too. He tried to stay alert but got distracted by David who got distracted by everything. He kept on stopping and looking for something in the stream. Once again he crouched and poked the water with the thin end of his club.

Max said, irritated. “I made it not for you to poke shit with it.”

“It's not 'shit',” David got up and hurried after Max, “There are leeches in here!”

“Told you, shit.”

“It's a part of survived fauna!”

“Whatever.”

“Well, Max, this is important!” David was examining the stream, “Do you even understand what it means?”

“Fuck off, David. It's just dirty slime.”

“Max, I'm an ecologist,” David looked at him smugly and returned to his mud, “and as an ecologist, I can assure you this slime isn't that dirty!”

“Isn't that dirty?”

“Right!” David was radiating delight.

“Well, that's good. If it's not dirty, we can have a bath, huh?”

“What-”

David didn't have time to react – Max pushed him into the water. David didn't understand what had happened so he sat in there for a few seconds before getting up.

“Honestly, Max! That's just silly!” He wiped his hands with his pants, soiledin dirty sludge **.**

Max smiled so hard his face muscles were aching.

“It's not that dirty, what's wrong?”

He hadn't been having so much fun since he was twelve when his jokes were relatively harmless. But David wasn't laughing, he was looking at his pants.

“They're soaked...”

He was talking to himself, and Max was a bit surprised that he got so upset with his prank. Maybe it was because of his injured leg or because of Max nagging him with all the talks during the day.

“See that jut over there? One time I made a fire behind it. The smoke wasn't that notable.”

David tried to protest, but Max just waved his hand.

“Relax. We'll make a halt, and you'll dry your rags.”

 

They came to the small patch of flat land. There was enough firewood at the ravine slopes; they gathered a little and brought it to the place to make a fire. David dug out small holes in the ground so the smoke wouldn't be too observable and put the firewood in there. Soon the flame was dancing in front of them. He put the club closer to it, to dry it as Max had advised him. He unbuckled his pants and was clutching them, reluctant to strip in front of Max. Max was about to make a joke about the shy rebels when David pulled the pants from his legs in one quick movement, and Max saw what was the matter. David's legs, especially the right one, were covered in scars. David sat on the ground, quickly covering his knees with his vest, obviously pretending to look for something in its pockets, but Max had time to see what kind of scars he had. They were the scars from laser batons; factory guards used these. The question of how David got them stuck on Max's throat. He didn't want to hear the answer.

“I'll... I'll go, get more firewood.” He tried to look at the fire, not at David.

“Yes, okay!” David's voice carried its usual cheerfulness in it. It turned out to be fake now.

There was more than enough firewood, but Max felt it would be respectful to leave even for a while. Surprisingly, he felt guilty. Pushing David into the stream was the most harmless thing he had done during the last few days, but when he looked at David who crouched at the fire and was carefully shaking his pants above it, Max felt genuinely sorry. He didn't intend to hurt David this time, unlike all the others. Strange, just in the morning he thought of David as of a lost boy who tried to play elders' games, but now Max saw the truth. It brought bitterness to his tongue and raised indistinctanger inside. He grabbed another twig from the ground and went a bit farther up the slope. Suddenly he heard a rustle. He dropped the twigs immediately and snatched out his sickle. He looked around, checking the fire below first, and felt something solid poking into his neck. Something very much like a shotgun. He froze and then tried to twist and to slit the person's throat, but he was pushed to the ground, a big body keeping him down and his arm twisted behind his back. The man covered his mouth with his hand.

“Shhh.”

Max craned his neck, pressing his cheek to the ground, and managed to distinguish the attacker. It was the man from the booth.

He grabbed Max's second arm and whispered, “I got everything right, then. Listen, my offer is still valid. I don't know about you, but I just need to get to the city, I can't stand it anymore... I know the guys who will sell him for a nice price, just take me with you, deal?”

Max cursed through his teeth. He didn't hear someone following him. He didn't hear it because David was prattling and singing, and Max got distracted - for the first time in his life.

Wait for the right moment, kick him with a foot, turn and snatch the knife from his left pocket. Easy. He just needs to play for time.

“I'm taking him to the market for payment. I don't work for the feds.”

The man grunted. “Everyone says so, mate, and everyone starts doing it, sooner or later. You'll come to the place, and they will take him anyway. And you with him,” the man lowered to Max's ear, holding his arms tighter, “And if you meet his friends, it will be a shame, too. They have field court-martial, how will you prove you're on their side?”

Max bucked, trying to free his arm. The man chuckled.

“I was watching you two today. Saw how you were cooing to each other. He looks nice, clean just like your powder, he gave it to you, right? Wanted to have the use of him and then sell him off? Well, he would go even better as a whore-”

 

Max freed his hand with one quick movement, kicked the man in the face with his elbow and threwhim off his back. The man stood on his fours; blood was running from his nose. Max grabbed the knife, and the man grabbed the shotgun, but let it out because of the sudden hit on his head. His eyes rolled back. Max looked up: David swang the club in his hands and hit the man once again. Max heard a nasty crack from the hit.

He picked up his sickle and got up.

“Not bad.”

David grasped his club and asked, “Are you okay??” He was pale.

Max nodded. David pointed at the man's body.

“Who.. was he?”

“The booth owner. Asked me about the powder, got suspicions that I wasn't alone. Wanted to seize something else.”

Max was relieved and irritated at the same time. He kicked the body with his foot and gave David a stern look.

“I told you to sit still yesterday!”

David guiltily shifted from foot to foot. Max knew that it wasn't David's fault: it was he who went to the booth. He started talking to the man, not David. But he wanted to pin it on him – David was distracting him with... with his everything.

 

Max searched the body. There was nothing valuable aside from the shotgun and a small dagger. Max was disgusted. It wasn't because of the man's intention to sell David, not because of him taking Max by surprise. No. It was because the man thinking they could make a deal. He was sure Max was just like him, and Max felt bile rising in his throat at the thought. Max took his broken head and snapped his neck.

“You didn't have to that,” David said quietly.

“Oh, what? Maybe we shall bury him now?”

He didn't hide his sarcasm, but David shrugged.

Max sighed. “Put on the pants, David.”

 

They went out of the ravine only in two hours, when it was dark already. The open area was not the best place for staying at night, but they grabbed dried cane with them to make beds and laid it around to hear cracking and footsteps, just in case. They were changing each other at the lookout, and during his, Max heard that David wasn't sleeping. He had learned him well enough to know he might not fall asleep at all.

He looked at the shotgun, that was glistening dimly in the starlight, and said, “We aren't that safe in here, but the others will be easy to spot, too. And I'm sure that jerk was alone.”

He smirked grimly. How desperate he was to follow them like that?

David mumbled something in agreement. After a minute he said, “It's just... it's always hard.”

He was talking about the murder. Max could call him a sissy, but deep inside he agreed. It was always hard. He looked into the dark sky and put his palms onto the ground, leaning back. David was lying next to him, and he felt his breath touching the skin of his hands.

“First time I cut the guy who tried to get a hold ofsomething that was mine. I was protecting myself, I didn't want to kill him.”

Max didn't understand why he was trying to justify his first murder. He waited and asked, “You?..”

David stayed silent, and Max feared his answer. What if he would say, “Today. Today I've murdered the man for the first time in my life.” Max didn't want to deal with David's trauma.

Finally, David said, “Two years ago.”

Max didn't ask about what had happened.

 

He got cold; he tried to warm up a bit, rubbing his palms against each other, and felt something dragging his arm down. Max looked closer: David clutched his sleeve and held it tight, frowning in his sleep.

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading! Let me know what you guys think about this story in your comments)


	5. Fever

It was two or three days left before they would get to the market. There Max will exchange his powder for necessary things and decide what to do next. David will contact who he needs to and go his own way. But what if they will find people like the booth man in there?

Max tried to push aside these thoughts. He didn't believe that people from wild markets would cooperate with the Alliance that willingly, besides, it was unlikely the man had contacted someone about them. And if so – David had told him he wasn't a significant figure, who would be interested in him? Anyway, Max didn't need to concern himself with it. When they arrive at the market, they will part.

They were walking along the brim of the abandoned wheat field. One of its sides faced the government training ground; Max didn't know if it still functioned and suggested to pass the field from the other side. It was longer but safer. The landscape was dull: dry, more like dried up the soil under their feet, the field that looked like a desert on the one side and crooked shrubs and stumps on the other **.** Even David's friends - bugs and flies disappeared somewhere. Maybe that was why he was following Max with such gloomy expression.

 

In the morning Max told him what he had decided for himself.

“David, just to make things clear: I'm not going to sell you, hand you to someone or rob you. If I wanted to, I would do that a long time ago.”

David said softly, “I know,” and continued poking in his sublimates. The calm sureness of his voice was both nice and awkward. 

 

Despite this being said, David stayed silent almost all day. He was walking with his head bowed, barely looking around. It was unsettling. Max would never admit that out loud, but depressed David was much worse than happy David. Max asked him if they were going north as they needed, but David didn't hear the question and just hummed something in reply when Max asked him about the direction the second time.

Max looked at the copse to the right of them.

“There's an old lodge somewhere in here, kind of a hunting box. It must be empty, we can stay the night in there.”

David nodded without saying a word. At another stump, one of those that had been used for the field marking, Max stopped and dropped the rucksack from his back to the ground.

“Okay, what's wrong.”

David stopped, too. “What do you mean?”

“I see you're loading with something. Spill it out, can't see you brooding like that anymore.”

David looked at the gray field that was running up to the horizon.

“It's about earlier... yesterday.”

“David, I've already told you: we have an agreement. We go to the market together, no tricks.”

David nodded and shuffled his foot.

“I just... I heard something yesterday and...”

Max thought of what could probably wound him.

“I'm not going to have the use of you, no offense.”

“That's not that!” David blushed. “It's about field court-martial.”

Max pulled his rucksack up and started walking, confused.

“And what's about it?”

“It exists, but our trial is fair!”

“And what does it have to do with anything?”

“I just don't want you to think about us as of unorganized and... and I would never let you get shot on the spot!”

David sounded offended. Max just shook his head.

“Jesus, I thought something happened... Look, David. It doesn't matter what I think about your court. You better think about yourself more – so no one would shoot you, you've got problems with that, to be honest.” 

"What, am I not good enough for my job?” David bristled suddenly.

“That's not what I meant,” Max tried to sooth his words, “It's just- it's your job, not mine.”

David muttered sadly, “I just don't want you to think of it all as of silliness and nonsense.”

It was a rather mild description of what Max thought about the Resistance.

“It doesn't matter what _I_ think about it, David. I think that you are a moron, that I'm a waste, that this world is trash and it can go straight to Hell. What does it change?”

“You're not a waste.”

“Whatever. I mean – you shouldn't give a fuck about what I or someone else thinks. Like at all. Believe in your own shit, and that's it.”

David smiled weakly, and Max rolled his eyes.

“What's that you've got on your mind now?”

“You're not as indifferent as you look.”

“Cut it, David. I won't join your ranks. I don't need that.”

“It's okay,” David waved his hands in a dramatic gesture. “Do you know what the Alliance does first? They try to convince everyone that there' no alternative, there's no point in fighting. It was very important for me to hear your words, Max. Thank you.”

Max snapped, abashed, “Just don't start crying.”

 

By the evening they got to the empty lodge. The old wooden hunter box caused strange feelings. It was a remnant of the past, a tomb for the gone times. Ancient furniture and broken windows evoked wistfulness inside, making a visitor wish to leave this place. At the same time, the house was kind of antiques, a museum piece – no one lived in such houses anymore. David peeked inside with interest, passed all the rooms and came back to Max who sat on the stairs of the porch. He pulled off his jacket and searched for the flask in his rucksack.

“Are we staying here?”

“Yeah, I think so. I've been here before.”

Max remembered about staying here last time and looked and the crumbling basement. Something moved under it. Max went closer, crouched and then lied on his stomach to look in the hole under the house floor.

“What's that?” David bent over to him.

“A snake nest. Ever ate snake eggs?”

“No,” David cautiously moved back, “I'm not sure they're edible. And it's not a good idea to bother snakes in their nests, Max. It's unsafe!”

“I don't do safe. And I've already got them from here before.”

David will stop squealing when he cooks them some eggs. It was a real delicacy, unlike sublimates.Max searched for a suitable item and took a plank **,** fallen off the side of the porch to shove it under the basement.

“Max, stop it! This is stupid.”

“I've told you, I've done it before.”

“You are being a real dunderhead now!”

Who could think, 'dunderhead'. It sounded like a real insult for David. Max stretched his arm further into the hole, prodding it with the plank. His arm got pierced with sharp pain. Max let go of the plank and pulled his arm back: there were two red dots on it. They darkened quickly **.**

"Fuck”.

David leaned to him and gasped. “Max, I've told you!”

“Shut up,” Max grabbed the bitten arm with his other hand, looking with hate at the yellow and brown rings of the snake, slithering from the basement.

David touched his shoulder urgently.

“Sit down and don't move!”

Max sat on the stair. He put the arm to his mouth, he wanted to suck off the poison but the bite was getting swollen quickly.

“I need a harness.”

“It will do things worse,” David sat beside him, looking his arm over. Max started to rub his bite in worry and jumped on his feet, pacing.

“Fuck off, I know what to do, I need a harness and antivenom, I've got one.”

“Max, no! Please, just sit down and stop moving!”

Max sat back, looking at the bite with distaste. He couldn't bear it when David turned out to be right and this time he wanted to do things his way. While David was rummaging in his bag and case, Max managed to get into his rucksack and pull a rusty metal box from it. He opened it and took a syringe with an ampule from there.

 

Once he got bitten by a sick raccoon. He injected antivenom in his leg, spent two days in fever in an old dugout but survived. He will survive now, too, without David with his stupid help.

 

Max stuck the syringe in his arm and injected the antivenom.

David roared, “What are you doing?!” 

He snatched the syringe from Max's hand. He was furious.

“Why on earth do you do injections like that??”

David looked the ampule over and slapped Max's knee. That was... hilarious.

“Do you even know how this antivenom works? What if it's expired?”

His yells were muffled as if Max's ears were filled with cotton. Max wanted to wave his hand but he couldn't move it.

“Calm down.” He wanted to say that but what he mumbled was something like “hmm mmm”. His tongue didn't work. Other parts of the body didn't work, either.

David stood up and surprisingly easily lifted Max onto his shoulder.

“Huh-”

That was all Max managed to say. David brought him into the house and laid on the dusty bed. 

"Do not move!"

He wouldn't be able to, anyway.Max felt his body going numb. His arm was bent, and something soft was put under his elbow. Then he sensed a slight smell of alcohol and prickling in his forearm. The fog inside his head and numbness in his body subdued a bit. He blinked and saw David, bent over him with incredible worry in his eyes.

“That's it. It must help.”

Max looked at the injection mark.

“Help with the poison?”

“Help with your antivenom! You were bitten by a rattlesnake, your antidote mustn't be used in this case at all! Gosh, Max, why are you so stupid!”

Maybe it was venom or antivenom side effect, but Max found this all funny. He wanted to move, though, but David pushed him back every time he tried to stand up.

“Lie down, Max. And do not move your arm!”

David bent his arm again. It was getting hot. After a few minutes, Max felt itchy. He twisted in place, making an old bed under him creak.

“Fuck... fuck, fuck!”

“Please, have patience,” David soothingly patted his shoulder.

Max looked at him heatedly. It wasn't David's fault, and it was driving him mad.

“Fuck you.”

The bitten arm was itching even harder. He was about to scratch it, but David caught his wrist. Max cursed and tried to stand up once again, but David held him down.

“Max, you shouldn't move! You're wasting your energy, please, calm down!”

Max continued his kicking, and David said, “I'm sorry, I have to do this.”

He sat on Max's thighs, keeping him down effectively, leaned and pulled an old sack from under the bed. He quickly cut two stripes from it with his pocket knife and weaved the stipes around Max's wrists. He tied them to the bed frame, ignoring all his kicking and swearing.

“Have you gone nuts?! Untie me this instant!”

David shook his head, checking the knots.

Max hissed, “I'll murder you. I swear to God, I'll murder you.”

David paid no attention to his threats, feeling his throat and arm with shaking fingers.

“No edema... that's good.”

Max pulled his arms with no result. He closed his eyes, resigned.

“Hold all the weapon beside you.”

David nodded. He got from the bed and returned with a rug in his hand. He wiped Max's forehead and then started to rub his face. Max tried to turn away.

“Stop it. What the fuck are you doing?”

David said, confused, “I thought you were dirty, but it's just... your skin.”

Max bucked, making the bed move.

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“I'm sorry!”

Max snarled in despair. He tried to kick David with his foot, but David managed to dodge **.** He cut another stripe from his shirt and soaked it in water, almost blue with the cleansing powder. There were only the shirt and the vest on him now: his jacket was under Max's elbow. Max kicked his leg just from spite, and David put it back on the bed. Max laughed. He felt funny and stupid because of the fever. David shook his head in disapproval and looked into his face. David was lucid, transparent and orange. Was he even real? Max wished he could be able to stretch his hand and touch him, but he couldn't do that. It was disappointing. He closed his eyes, almost squinting, trying to get rid of slurred, sticky thoughts, but the image of David with the club in his hands came to his mind. Max recalled the scars on his legs and the feeling of David's weight on his thighs a few minutes ago.

Max moved, feeling David's hand, keeping him in place.

“Fuck me.”

Seemed like his tongue started to work separately from his brain. The hand on his thigh moved and stroked his knee.

“You're delusional,” David wiped his forehead.

“No.”

David didn't answer to that, and Max said, “I don't offer this to just anyone, you know.”

David muttered, “Why couldn't you just fall asleep.”

“Hey, you're talking from morning to evening, and I tolerate that.”

David wiped his face, ignoring Max's stare.

“So you will fuck me or what?”

“Max, that's enough. I will gag you now!”

David blushed, and Max snickered.

“Do you even realize how it sounds? Okay, gag and then fuck me.”

“Max, you're exhausting yourself with speaking, please, stop.”

“Put your dick in me or you can ride me, hey, where are you goin'?”

David put a piece of cloth in his mouth. His expression was unreadable.

“That's better.”

 

Max hummed in protest, but soon there was no need for a gag. He was shaking, feverish, having no energy for a single word. He didn't understand where he was or with whom he was. Dark and light wheels, smudged at the edges, were floating in front of his eyes. He heard a sound: something repetitive, fast, like gurgling. It was kind of annoying but he could cling on it so he wouldn't float away completely. Max understood what the sound was. It was a speech. Someone was talking to him, stroking his hair and touching his forehead. He guessed who it was.

“Mum?”

The sound stopped and then started again, this time it was louder, faster. Max wanted to say that he was alright. He wanted to say that there was no need to worry, David. Someone was giving him water, someone turned him on his side when the wanter was pouring back out of him. Someone was whining – maybe he was. Eventually, the wheels in front of his eyes stopped, and he fell into them completely.

 

Max woke, moved and immediately felt an ache in his body as if it was twisted in several places. His muscles were screaming in pain. He turned his head, wincing, and saw feeble gray daylight outside the broken window. So it was morning already. He looked around as far as his muscles allowed him. There was a table with the medicine on it, moved to his bed. Beside it, there was a chair with an open flask and a pack of sublimates on it. His jacket was hanging on the chair; the rucksack, the sickle and everything else was under it.

Max gathered all the energy he had and swang his legs from the bed. He stood up and nearly fell: he had to wait for a couple of minutes to regain his sense of balance. He walked to the window without putting his shoes on: David was nowhere to be seen. Max turned cold inside. He heard footsteps; he wanted to grab his sickle or knife but he couldn't react that fast in such condition. David went into the room with a flask in his hands. He rushed to Max with joyous relief.

“Max, you're awake! How are you feeling? I've got us some water, there's an old well nearby. Now, you must go back to bed!”

Max looked David over: he was pale, transparent. He probably didn't sleep at all, looking after Max and, didn't even sit still for a second while doing that.

Max made a face and moved away from him.

“I'm fine, no need to cluck.”

David faltered. “But I just-”

“I'm _fine_ ,” Max was irritated, he didn't know with what exactly. “You didn't sleep at all, right?”

David shrugged.

“No, I couldn't leave you unattended.”

“Well, go to sleep, then,” Max tried to pull on his boots. His hands didn't work properly. “Damn it, why did you even pull them off?”

He knew that he was acting stupid and childish, but he just wanted to nag David even more.

“Do you need any help?”

David's voice was gentle as if Max was a kid. Max continued pulling on his boots without looking at David. He finished with one and murmured, “No. Go... Go to bed.”

David walked around the bed and lied down. Max buckled up the second boot.

“Thanks.”

David didn't answer him, and Max turned. David was already sound asleep. He was lying on his side with his hands under his cheek. Max saw destroyed parts of his shirt under his jacket. He stood up, picked his jacket from the chair and cover David with it.

He sat on the floor and leaned back against the bed.

“I didn't get attached to you. Got it?”

 

David was sleeping. He couldn't hear him. Max was lying only to himself.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!) 
> 
> !!!There are amazing arts for the scene in this chapter from Lipri: https://lipriship.tumblr.com/post/185149152711


	6. Crossroads

Max dozed off with his head on the bed. It made his neck hurt after he woke up a bit later. Nice, another addition to the pack of pleasant sensations. He winced and turned his head to stretch the muscles. David was sorting out his stuff on the table beside him. He smiled at Max.

“Good morning. How are you feeling?”

“Not bad. What time is it?”

“Past noon already, but it's okay. You need to rest.”

“I've already rested enough,” Max stood up, testing his sense of balance, “I'll be just fine after I get something to eat. What, are you ready?”

“I saw the drone.”

David said this without stopping his methodical moving of items here and there, and Max saw he was just nervous and tried to hide it. He held back the curse.

“Well, we'll leave the lodge later, then. We can go at night.”

 

The news wasn't the cheerful one, but it wasn't that terrible, either. Not all of the drones belonged to the Alliance, not all of them were working. Anyway, they better keep moving then wait in here until they are detected.

 

They stayed in the lodge till evening, setting in order their supplies and weapon. Max looked over his knives and sharpened the dead man's dagger to give it to David. David pulled off his damaged shirt and took a spool of rough thread and a needle from his vest pocket. Max expected to see another scar left from heroic actions underneath but saw just bright skin with a scattering of freckles. His clothes required if not mending but washing for sure. Max took off his t-shirt and shook it, thinking if he should waste water on it right now. Nah, hardly. He threw it on the chair and stretched his back with his hands on the hips. It was so nice to make it work after all this stupid sleeping in an awkward position. David avoided looking at him. When Max was stretching he buried his face into his shirt completely. He bowed his head so his hair hid his eyes like a curtain.

Max couldn't help himself. He sat on the floor opposite him and shoved his leg with his foot, smiling mischievously.

“My offer is still valid.”

David blushed instantly, and Max grinned. Damn, it was cute.

David didn't look at him and just muttered, “I've no idea what you are talking about.”

Judging by red that colored his shoulders and collarbone, he did have the idea pretty accurately. Max enjoyed his reaction a little bit more. Finally, he took pity and said, “I'm kidding.”

David turned away from him, facing the window, and mumbled, “Honestly...”

 

Max wasn't kidding, but there was no point in saying that. He knew the way it worked – at the markets, wagon trains, everywhere. Eye contact, barely noticeable nod; to find a quiet corner, to feel dull pain and quick relief – quick so other's body and breath wouldn't seem too dangerous to stay around. No words, no questions, a barely noticeable nod for goodbye. No one used anyone – or everybody did and were okay with it. But somehow Max was sure it wouldn't work with David. The thought brought strange relief and despair at the same time. Screw it. Let David think he's just messing with him.

 

They got off late at night and headed north, sticking closer to the copse. Something was rustling among the trees, but Max was sure that any boar would be way better to deal with than the feds. They didn't speak, listening to the silence around them. It was an hour after they started walking when David said,

“Max, we are heading way too much to the right than we need to.”

“Yes. We'll get to the quarry and then will turn left, to the market. We need to walk around the field.”

David thought for a moment and said, “It's not the field anymore, it's the wood already.”

“What is that you want?”

“Nothing! It's just – we could turn left right now.”

 

It was like they were thrown back in time a few days ago – when David irritated him with his questions when he wanted to get rid of him. It would be so awesome to see him just as a nuisance again and to choose the route on his own accord, but instead, Max led them north because it was safer. Max was angry, reminding himself about the decision he had already made: David's fate after the market was none of his business. This decision seemed less and less appealing to him, and it made him even madder.

 

David got rattled, too. It was dawn, and he blurted out, tired of holding back, “Max, we are going  north.”

“I've already told you, we are walking around the field.”

“We've already left it behind!”

Max gritted his teeth. Look at him, so in a hurry to meet another trouble and to get away from Max.

 

They stopped for a halt. Gray twilight was cut with scarlet beams of the rising sun. This red light poured everything around them, making the landscape unsettling, troubling. David got anxious; he was looking around, stomping his foot. The noise was driving Max mad.

“What's that now?”

“Nothing, sorry! I just thought we would get to the market sooner, I need to contact the headquarters.”

“Well, you will,” Max bit head off, “No one tries to contact you, though.”

He said this now, but he had thought of it for a while. David was abandoned by people he seemed to be utterly devoted to. So much for being fuckin' comrades.

David's cheek turned red as if he was slapped.

“It's my fault.”

“What exactly? That you are a moron?”

“Maybe this is, too.”

 

He decided Max was just messing with him, again. He shuffled the ground with his foot, squatted and cleaned space around a small sprout.

“This is _Pínus lambertiána_ ,” he turned to Max, “this pine once was used for ritual accessories and utensils.”

He stroked the small sprout with tenderness. A few days ago this Pocahontas crap was amusing, but now it just infuriated Max.

Max didn't respond, and David added, “Like staffs, for example.”

“Well, it changes everything.”

“In fact, it does,” David was drawing circles around the tiny pine tree. “It means that parts of wild areas can be recovered, they are getting back to life already. If the construction of factories and weapon tests are stopped, they will get in its previous state and the city gates can be opened. People live in cells and work for poor ration, they think there's no alternative for this, but there is one.”

Max was still silent, and David asked softly, “Max, why... Why do you react like that? What don't you like about my ideas so much? Isn't it great that people still have a chance to make things right?”

Max wanted to ask, _“ Why do you give a fuck?”_ but said, “We shouldn't go to the market.”

David stopped moving his fingers in the dust.

“What? Why?”

“We shouldn't go to the market. That man, from the booth, told me the Alliance started to pay for the rebels.”

David frowned, confused. “You wanted to hand me over and now you've changed your mind?”

“No, idiot. But some people would want to do this.”

“Max, I've been here for months,” he tried to calm him down, damn him, “I know, it's hard to believe but I've been to the markets before and survived. And the Alliance never shows up in there.”

“Well, it seems the situation has changed, they offer citizenship for fighting the rebels. Even if it's just rumors, some people may believe it. And even if there are two of us – if there _were_ two of us – we couldn't fight several people, and there won't be only one.”

“Max,” David's voice was admonishing, “if you're afraid, then-”

Max stood up and walked to where David was sitting on the ground. He leaned to him, and David put his head into his shoulders as if trying to hide.

“David, I'm not afraid. I lived in the bottom of the city, I worked at the factory in _Z_   district and I ran away from there two years ago. I've seen things you can't even think of. So stop fuckin' bleating if I'm scared or not. It's just – I have brains and a weapon that I can use and you, you have none of it.”

David looked at him from the ground, frightened surprise in his eyes.

“Are you worried about me?”

Max made a deep breath, keeping from shouting 'yes!' and fighting his desire to hit David with the club so his head would start working.

“No. Like I care. I just don't want to be the part of this shit. I know, I'll end my life in a nasty way, but you know? Not like this. I'm out.”

He picked his rucksack from the ground.

“I won't go to the market. And I won't lead you there, either.”

He'll keep walking north, he'll find a wagon train and offer his security services to people in there. He won't become a meaningless victim in the meaningless battle and he won't witness someone else becomes it. He won't witness David to become this victim.

If he can't change his mind, so...

“I'll go alone, then.”

David was speaking quietly but sternly.

Max answered, “Go ahead.”

 

They got to the quarry in an hour. The highway they had crossed a few days ago appeared in view again, it circled the training ground from the other side. The Alliance began mining in here, but something went wrong and the quarry stayed abandoned. They stopped at the concrete block, one of those that had been brought here for constructing.

David was looking at him with afflated sadness - “let us stay friends in the end” as it was.

“What are you going to do now?”

“Go further, north.”

David was about to say something else, but Max decided it would be better not to delay their farewell. He handed David the shotgun.

“The market is near. You'll get there today, tomorrow morning for sure.”

David took the shotgun with quiet, “thanks.” He stretched his arm to shake Max's hand, but Max didn't notice it on purpose. He nodded shortly, looking anywhere but not at David's face, avoiding his eyes.

“Good luck.”

 

He turned and started to go down the quarry. After a few seconds, he heard footsteps behind his back – not towards him, away from him. Max clenched his jaws and continued walking, keeping his pace even so it wouldn't look like running or wish to stay either. He mechanically walked around blocks. He was listening carefully, he almost hoped to hear David's scream because of another trap or boar or something – but he didn't hear anything. He cut dried grass with his sickle, movements let his fury loose.

“Idiot, I wish I've never met you at all.”

He was lost in his frustration, and his instinct only made him stop when he saw a man several feet ahead of him. Max held his breath and hid behind the unfinished foundation. The Alliance soldier was facing away from him, he was standing farther along the quarry, closer to its crater. Max made a step back without looking away from the soldier. He repeated his way among the blocks. When the soldier disappeared from his view, he turned and ran, rushed to where they broke up with David.

He caught him up in several minutes: David was walking with his shoulders slouched, holding a small bunch of twigs in his hand. Max grabbed him by the forearm, pushing him from the open space and behind one of the blocks. He caught his breath and said, paying no attention to cheerful exclaims,

“Feds.”

David wiped his eyes that were red for some reason and asked,

“Here?”

“Fifteen minutes from here.”

“How many?”

“I saw one. Armed, but he didn't look like a patrol.”

David wanted to ask something, but Max covered his mouth with his hand.

“Hush.”

There were footsteps. Max took David by his shoulders and shoved into a narrow space between two blocks. He squeezed in there after him. Space was enough only for them to stand still without moving at all. The footsteps grew louder and finally silenced at the other side of the blocks they were hiding in. By shuffling, Max assumed there were two of the soldiers. Something clicked - probably, the lighter.

 

“Damn _R_. I hate this district.”

Another man just hummed in response. David moved, and Max unclenched his hand from David's shoulder to put a finger on his lips.

The first man sighed and kicked something.

“When do they pick us from here?”

“No idea,” the second soldier went closer to their blocks. “We were told to wait for further orders.”

The first soldier cursed. He went to the blocks and leaned to one of them. The pile of concrete pieces was unstable, it moved slightly. Max felt David's shuddering exhale on his fingertips.

“Next orders, huh? I wonder which ones. What's that now, to crawl another cave with prewar equipment? I've always thought the Alliance has no problem with this stuff.”

The second man didn't answer. Judging by the smell, he was smoking. The first one continued, “I've always dreamt about getting to the wild areas, and you know what? I'm disappointed. The guys at the factories have to deal with real stuff, and what are we doing? We've been looking for some boy for two fuckin' weeks in a row.”

David dug his fingers in Max's shoulders and made a barely perceptible noise – maybe Max imagined it, he wasn't sure. He pressed his finger harder to David's lips and closed his eyes, listening.

“Well, he's not just some boy. Have you even checked the file? He's from Campbell's Lab.”

“What is that?”

“Their laboratory is responsible for the environmental analysis in every district. Have you seen banners with a mustached smiling man at the entrance to each city? That's theirs. Acidity level, air pollution, major contamination – it's for them to decide whether the place is habitable or not.”

There was a sound of unzipping fly and a stream, pouring on the ground.

“So?”

“So,” the second soldier sounded annoyed with his partner. “He was working in there. I don't know, who he was, a biologist or something, and then ran away from the city, on his own. Obviously, he saw something he shouldn't have seen there.”

There was a peep of a walkie-talkie, and the second man got the message – Max didn't hear what it said exactly. The first one zipped his pants.

“Nutcase. Better to get it over with. What's that now?”

“Our further rout. Go south from here, search the training ground and the field.”

The first soldier spat to the ground.

“That's not what I've joined the federal army for.”

“Well, you have joined it so follow the orders and do not whine. And, another thing – this guy is not alone.”

 

The sound of footsteps was fading in the distance with the soldiers' speech. It was one minute, two, ten – only after a quarter of an hour they dared to move. Max untangled from David, and David put away his numb fingers from Max's shoulders.

Max asked hoarsely, “Not important, huh?”

David opened pale lips with the dent left from Max's finger on them.

“No. Not really.”

Max sighed and moved backward from in between the blocks. David followed him. He jumped into hurried admonishments immediately.

“Max, you were right when you changed your rout, it really may be dangerous for you... I mean, it _is_ dangerous for you now, so you should go your way. I'm incredibly grateful for you coming back to warn me! But you were risking too much... you're risking right now and you shouldn't stay with me any longer.”

“Aw, are you worried about me?”

David shoved his shoulder with indignation.

“Yes, I am! And I'm not afraid to admit it. You don't know what these people are like.”

He looked in the direction the Alliance soldiers had gone.

“Well, shame. You are not alone now,” Max was mocking him by quoting the words he had just overheard.

David put his hands to his chest and opened his eyes wide,  pleading guilty obvious in his expression.

“Max, I'm so-”

Max put a finger on his mouth before he would start to apologize,  blame himself and do other stupid stuff. He wasn't mad at David. He felt lively and... and happy they had to stay together for now. He didn't want to hit David anymore – more like to flick him on the forehead because he was a dummy.

“Shut up. Don't apologize. It was my decision. I decided to go with you then, I decided to come back to you now. Got it?”

David froze in place, he was looking at Max with near adoration, and Max put his hand away from his mouth. He changed the subject.

“What way shall we go now?”

“They've mentioned the caves... There are karst caves in _R_ district. The tunnel there divides in two, they lead north and north-west. If we take the second one, we'll be safe from drones for some part of the way.”

“So we should take the tunnel?”

“Yes. I remember this area by maps only... But I remember them perfectly, can even draw them by heart!”

“I have no doubt. They have already searched the caves and are moving south now, right?”

“Yes. I think the entrance to the caves is in the quarry. The feds came from there. We just go in different directions with them.”

“Perfect. Let's wait for a while and go down there.”

David nodded.

“Okay. And, Max? Thank you.”

Max looked at the man who irritated him beyond belief, impressed him and caused the incongruous tenderness in his heart. Maybe he was delusional after all.

“It's nothing.”

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!)


	7. Cage

The entrance to the cave looked like a hole in the ground. Max wouldn't notice it if he didn't know there was space underneath. They were going down the slope, and the crumbling ground under their feet did nothing to keep David from chatting.

“These are karst caves! They form because of the underground sources, their water washes out the soil and creates hollows below.”

“Jesus, David. Sounds like you've learned encyclopedias for kids by heart.”

David shone with delight.

“Yes, I have! Is it so obvious?”

“It wasn't a compliment.”

David shrugged. “Theory won't substitute practice but may come in handy. At least, the information in encyclopedias is true.”

 

It was dark in the cave. David turned on the flashlight, built in his pocket knife. It couldn't light the whole cave, but it looked intimidating as it was. Two passages in the opposite wall were intimidating for sure. David spun around and pointed to the left one.

“In here.”

The passage was breathing with wetness and cold. Max was okay with the dark but not in a narrow space underground. Something was splattering and dropping in the stone walls, the flashlight didn't reach the arch of the cave, and it was just empty black nothing above their heads. Fighting the attack of the primal horror, Max asked, “So... is it true?”

David turned to him, and the torch lit his face for a second.

“What exactly?”

“About the lab and other stuff.”

“Yes. But I didn't lie to you about being not important,” he turned to Max briefly and continued walking, “I was a receptionist. So... I would run from there, anyway.” David chuckled, and the sound was blurred with echo.

“Why?”

“Because I _hate_ offices! You should've seen these halls in Campbell Corp!” David shivered as if the very thought about them was much worse then the cold cave around him.

“So...what happened?”

David didn't answer. There was only the sound of their footsteps. Max started to regret his straightforward question, but David said,

“Well, I was working with documents a lot. The lab has several parks and greenhouses outside the city, part of them remained intact, but only the best of the scientists worked there, not... not someone like me. I thought we would do something really useful someday,"  he laughed humourlessly, “I was one of Mr. Campbell's assistants, and... you know, now I understand it was stupid, but I really believed he wanted to rebuild the ecosphere. I was wrong. It seemed like he took me for a complete idiot because he trusted me with all his correspondence. That was how I noticed that the results od soil analyzes didn't match with official statements. I tried to talk to him, but it was all in vain. The others didn't support me, either, I was labeled as _'questionable'_ and... I ran away.”

“How?” Max didn't hide his curiosity. He was walking close to David, almost stepping onto his hills.

“It isn't that hard to escape the city, to get back is way more difficult,” David answered vaguely, and Max pulled himself up from the rush of questions. David added, “Not that someone is waiting for me there, though.”

“Don't you have someone left in the city?”

“My parents. But they've told me I'm not their son, not anymore. I'm _'questionable'_ ”

 

Each of Max's questions provoked answer, one gloomier than another, so he stopped. He didn't want to torture David with these memories. Now he had nothing to distract himself from the narrowing corridor; his panic came back to him. He couldn't stretch his arms in full width of the passage, and sometimes he even had to press his elbows to his sides to get further.

He asked, “Are we going the right way?”

“Sure!” David's voice was careless. “Do you feel the air moving?”

Max didn't feel it. He was suffocating.

“Well, I have no air to breathe.”

He said this in a mocking tone, but David stopped on the spot. Max bumped into him.

“What the... Why the fuck did stop?”

He felt as if the walls were squeezing him from both sides and were about to crush him completely.

“Max, take my hand. It would be easier this way. We've already made half of the route! You're just anxious, it's called claustrophobia, you-”

Max pushed David's hand away. “Shut up and move on!”

David walked faster, he kept on turning to Max, saying that they were almost there. Finally, the light appeared ahead of them, the air got warmer, and they walked into the cave hall a bit smaller than the previous one. The soil here was lighter, icicles of stalactites were hanging from the cave's ceiling. The light of the torch played on them with rare sunbeams falling from the cracks above. Max had to admit – the place was magical. They got out of the cave through the crack in its wall, and David kept on looking back, as in trance. Max understood what was going on.

“So we've walked through the caves just because you wanted to look at them, huh?”

David stopped looking around and gave Max an innocent look.

“What? No! It was the safest way!”

“You jerk. I can't stand mines and caves.”

“Well, that means today you fought your fear!”

David threw his arm in the air victoriously, he was walking with his back forward, facing Max. Max didn't have time to give him a snide remark, and David didn't have time to turn around. Everything happened too fast. A man jumped from the ground from the left of them and knocked David out with the butt of his rifle. Max didn't have time to react, he didn't have time to scream because in a second he was knocked out, too.

 

Max woke up in a dark barred place; the floor under him was quivering evenly. It took few seconds for him to realize what had happened: they were captured and now were transporting somewhere. Max rose up and looked around: there was neither his rucksack nor his weapon around. He was in a cell. Its size allowed him to lie on the floor, but he couldn't stand up in his full height. In the gray light of the prison van, he saw the second cell opposite his own. Max pressed his face to the bars, with his heart beating like a drum, looking at the man in there.

“David?”

He couldn't reach the other cell, couldn't knock on the bars. He couldn't see if David was all right. Was he conscious? Did something happen while he was out? David moved with a quiet moan, and Max exhaled in relief. David moved to the bars, grabbing them with his fingers.

“You okay?”

David answered, “Yes.”

“Any ideas where they're taking us?”

David's face looked like a pale blur between two dark bars. He leaned his forehead to them and said softly, “To the Сore.”

Max had never heard about the Core, but he still thought it was better than being shot on the spot. For some reason, they needed David alive, and Max was un_fortunate enough to be his company. They had to get out, at least try to do it until they got at the place. They probably wouldn't be able to do much in there. Max tried to move the cell bars, shaking them with his hands. They needed to use all the possibilities.

“Damn it, durable. I have only stuff in my pockets left, you?”

David didn't respond, and Max frowned, pressing into the bars to see him better.

“David? David, do you hear me?”

David was silent. He slouched; it looked like his inner stem, that was keeping him upright all this time, vanished. He slowly untangled his fingers from the bars and moved in the corner of his cell, hugging his knees and rocking in place. He was in a stupor, and it was awful. Max pushed aside his despair that choked his and squeezed him much worse than cave walls. He had survived a lot of things, but this one took the cake. David's reaction was understandable, he had his own story of dealing with the Alliance. He was broken, and Max had to fix him quickly.

He pressed his face to the bars.

“David, check your cell! Come on, let's get out of here!”

It was no help. Max was watching in despair as David was crawling onto himself, trying to hide from everything that was waiting for him ahead. He had his reasons to surrender, but Max had his own not to do so.

“David... David, you have to get to the market, remember?”

David moved. He nodded absentmindedly.

“You have to contact your headquarters, do you hear me? They... they wait for you, don't let them down!”

David nodded, first unsure than quicker, reacting to Max's words. Max wiped the sweat from his forehead.

“Okay, so, do you have anything left from your stuff?”

 

Max was left without anything at all – except for the stiletto in the inside pocket of his pants along with the powder he kept in there, too. He told David once that patch-pockets caught too much attention, but, surprisingly, David's vest was untouched. David took out his case with medicine from his vest and opened it.

“Everything's broken. There are only antibiotics and procaine.”

Max thought of what to do. They were caught and put in separated cells, but they weren't handcuffed. They were searched, but not too thoroughly. Their guards either were idiots or thought of them as idiots. Or - they were in a big rush.

They didn't have time for making plans. They had only one.

 

David pushed the case on the van floor and Max grabbed it, stretching his arm in between the bars. David started to knock onto the cell's walls, and after five minutes the van stopped. The door into the opened and the Alliance soldier peeked inside. Max glanced at him from his twisted position on the floor: the guard had his helmet off. Perfect.

“What's going on here?”

David pointed at Max's cell.

“He's... he's sick! He has a seizure!” David pressed to the cell wall with his back, feigning fear and distaste. He didn't have to feign fear, though – the soldier had a laser baton in his hand. He looked at Max's cell: Max was lying on the floor, crouched onto himself. He was howling quietly, trying to do it in a way sick workers at the factories did.

“Come on, he's not sick. This district is clear.”

The soldier hit the bars of the cell with his baton.

“Hey, you, got up unless I help you on your feet!”

Max made especially nasty noise, and the soldier made another hit to calm him down.

Sick people weren't contagious, but Max knew that the feds from the factories were still afraid to 'catch the disease' and threw sick workers away. He could only hope this soldier was as gullible and suspicious as the rest of them so he would squeamish to be in the same van with him. The soldier actually went to opening Max's cell. The door creaked, Max jumped from his place and stuck the syringe with procaine under the soldier's chin. The soldier wheezed and held his numbing face. He grabbed his throat, caught in spasms, moved out the van and fell out of it onto his back.

“What's up, Al?”

The second soldier looked into the van, and Max kicked him in the face with his feet, jumping outside. The soldier fell on the ground, and Max launched on him, plunging his stiletto into both of his wrists and his knee in three sharp movements. He didn't have the baton, he didn't have the laser rifle, but he knew how to pierce the right tendons, and he could do it with incredible speed. He snatched the rifle from the soldier's injured arm, pulled off his helmet and hit him with the butt of the rifle, several times, feeling furious satisfaction. David was calling to him, and it was the only thing that kept him from being lost in his rancor. Max found the keys in the soldier's pocket and opened David's cell. David didn't even thank him, he rushed to the cab and start the van.

“Get in!”

Max jumped inside, and David turned the van around into the reverse direction.

“I better say it now, I don't know how to drive.”

He grabbed the stirring wheel, keeping his eyes on the highway in front of them.

“You're doing good for now.”

David glanced at him with big frightened eyes and smiled quickly. Max popped out the van window. He held the rifle in his hand. The road behind them was vacant.

“How much time do we have?”

“Hard to say. If I remember it right, the highway goes straight west and makes a turn south to where we were brought from. So we have to follow the highway, turn south, move a bit further to leave the van and go north - just to confuse them.”

Max nodded, he trusted David with directions and areas. They had been driving for twenty minutes or so when the highway turned left abruptly.

“Shit...”

Max stopped looking out the window to check the road behind them and looked forward. There was the Alliance post with its gates closed. It was impossible to go round – the roadsides were too steep in here. They had one option only.

“We have to turn back.”

David held the wheel tighter and added speed. The post was closer with every second. The post guards put rifles from their shoulders – they probably knew about their escape. Max shook David by the shoulder.

“David, turn around! We won't break through the gates!”

David didn't respond. The gates were in ten seconds, nine, eight....

“Hold on!”

Max barely managed to dive under the panel desk. David took right and went through the guardhouse, tearing it down. They were thrown forward, then backward, but the glass and the vane hull were safe. The vane turned around, and David aligned the wheel, pressing the gas pedal. Max cursed soundly, not holding back his emotions. He stuck out the window to flip the feds off and pulled back to avoid the shot. He fired back with the rifle, whopping with joy after getting one of the post guards who was trying to open the gates. Seemed like they destroyed the opening mechanism while smashing through their post. The Alliance transport was excellent – and their posts were horrible. What was this posthouse even made of? Cardboard?

“Fuck, they are morons,” Max sat back into the cabin. “They are all that dumb? And I thought the rebels are thick.”

“Buckle up, Max.”

Max just laughed, and David looked at him, frowning. One of his brows was cut after the collision. He was still clenching the wheel with his pale fingers; they were trembling slightly.

 

Max had never lived the average teen's life with all the worries about parents and teachers, school and tests, first kisses and first crushes, awkward and overwhelming. He missed, passed by these moments. But right now it was just how he felt – like a schoolboy who stole the car with his best friend he actually had a huge crush on. There was no place for such cliché in the new world, but there still were feelings that might be described with these forgotten, lost metaphors. Max held the rifle in his hands tighter. He leaned back into his seat, he kept on glancing at David, hiding incredible, heady liveliness that filled him like sparkling electricity. He had survived before, but for the first time in his life he wasn't just relieved with the fact, he was delighted. But all these glorious feelings still couldn't beat the sudden timidity that held him from wiping blood from David's face with his fingers.

They reached the bridge that crossed the ravine. David was about to stop right there, but Max suggested to fasten the pedal so the vane would continue going without them for some time. They jumped onto the asphalt. The speed wasn't that high, but the hit turned out to be hard enough. The vane went on along the highway, and they went down under the bridge. It wasn't a natural ravine – more like a trench, dug out for some sort of tubing.

 

“We better go half of a mile or so from here now,” Max looked David over evaluatively. He was as ruffled and beaten as Max himself. He was acting on pure adrenaline, despite all the escapes, caves and a sleepless night before, but he knew this state would be over soon.

David answered quickly, “I'm fine!”

He walked along the trench bottom ahead of Max with suspicious vigor. He was dealing well. Too well. It didn't last for long. After ten minutes he ran to the side, crouched and threw up. He chirped, “I'm okay!” over his shoulder and bent because of another spasm. Max sighed. He tore a patch of cloth from his dirty t-shirt, soaked it in the water, running on the trench bottom, and ground a piece of blue powder he still had in his pocket in the wet cloth. It should be safe. He handed the cloth to David.

David was wiping his mouth with his sleeve. He took the cloth with a weak smile, mumbling, “thanks!” He wiped his face, made few steps and sat on the ledge in the trench wall.

“I'm so sorry, give me a moment...”

Max sat next to him and patted David's shoulder. “It's okay. Take your time.”

David smiled weakly. “Still can't get used to the fact that someone wants to kill me.”

He kept on mumbling, saying that he just needed to catch his breath, apologies running from his mouth like a stream. Max wanted to say that he could catch his breath even if it would take forever. He wanted to say that David had nothing to be sorry about. David's reaction was a human's reaction. It was a normal thing – to panic, to cry or to feel nauseous after everything he'd gone through. But even now, when everything was over, David tried to feign impassiveness to... to what? For not to be a wimp in Max's eyes?

 

Max look at the hands on his knees. He glanced at David from the corner of his eye: he was making deep breaths to calm himself down – probably had read in some stupid book that it would work in such cases.

He needed to do something, to say something, to support David, damn, he wished he knew how to act... Max remembered the thought that flickered in his mind after the gates and said, “You know, I couldn't understand how you ended up in the Resistance. But... but I get it now. They can be proud of you.”

Max said this and made a deep breath – it looked like David wasn't the only one in need of breathing exercises. David turned, facing him. Max felt his eyes burning an invisible hole in his face, but he didn't turn to face David. He knew what would happen next. And he knew that he would just take someone else's place here. It wasn't David's fault he stuck here with Max. David deserved someone better by his side, someone who would worth him and his flaming gaze - and Max definitely wasn't this someone. Max ignored David's posture, his look, and the boiling of his own blood.

He stood up and said, without looking at David, “So, are you ready?”

 

 

They walked side by side, too tired and shocked for talking. The went to the copse and moved north-west from there, continuing moving even after the sunset. They were launching to the ground, hiding from the drones. They stopped for the halt a couple of times and drank water from the streams, grinding the remained powder in their palms. They stopped for the night only when they saw a spot of light in the distance. The market. In the darkness, it was bright enough even for miles around. They built a hut, faltering and stumbling in the dark, bumping into each other, and made beds from the branches they managed to gather around.

 

Max was acting on the instinct. His body, his arms, and his legs were moving on their own. His anxiety finally caught up with him, but instead of vomiting, he was granted with nasty insomnia. He sent David to bed first. David pulled off his dirty vest and rolled it like a pillow to put it under his head. He touched Max's shoulder.

“Max, thank you. I mean, for everything, I'm so grateful, you can't even imagine how much it means to me that you-”

David's tongue barely worked. Max could see his hair disheveled even in the dark.

“Yeah, yeah, go to sleep.”

David didn't argue and settled down in the hut behind him. Max was sitting with the rifle in his hands, listening to the rustles around; in all the noises he could hear David's quiet snoring. He looked at the bright light in the distance. He didn't want to complete their route. He had no idea what he would do after they get to the market.

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading!)
> 
> UPD Hey guys. I don't know if I will translate this fic completely or not. There are only four chapters left, but I'm feeling so off this world right now that I, I just don't know. My stories have always been the thing that kept me going; me and my therapist even have an inside joke about them being Scheherazade's tale for me - while I write them, I live. But now I just feel that I'm ending, running off - and so are my stories, all of them, whether they're in progress or just ideas in my mind - it's all dying. After all these years, my depression got the best of me, finally. Maybe it's noteacable with all the mistakes and mistapes I've made so far even though I tried to avoid them. I'm sorry, I don't have side blogs or special accaunts for such information, and I bring it here, to all of you who still continues to read this story. It's kinda unfair, for you didn't come here to read t_h_i_s.  
> I'm sorry.


	8. Contact

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> NSFW here! Be warned)

They hit the road in the morning and got to the market gates in two hours. Wild markets did not differ that much; dirty vans instead of suburbs, broken carts instead of vehicles, and any valuable trifle as a pass inside. Smaller markets often moved, but large ones sooner or later settled in place. Just like cities before, markets attracted lots of people: not everyone wandered through the wasteland willingly, some were seeking for where to settle. This particular market was one of the overgrown ones and had finally entrenched in its territory.

 

Max looked at the motley line, trying to get used to the feeling of others' bodies next to his. He spent most of the time alone, and crowds of any kind always oppressed him. He made face every time he was accidentally hit or pushed by someone; people here did not pay attention to each other’s personal space, too eager to get inside. Even David was walking closer to him. Max didn't mind this closeness, though. David didn't even realize he was doing it. He was agitated and wound up since morning; although he was silent, Max could hear everything inside him ringing with tension. Max was worried, too, but now he thought that they had no reason for panic: they both completely merged with the scum, surrounding them. David’s clothes and David himself were anything but clean, and David's forearm was hidden securely under his jacket. His red hair didn't give out anything — now it had an indefinite brown color. They could attract unwanted attention inside, at the radio tower or somewhere else. Sure, according to an unspoken rule, no one asked anything about the transmitted messages, waves, frequencies and other things there, but someone could follow them. Max looked with annoyance at David who was gawking around: he had never bothered with these things before, he had never thought so much in advance. Well, it all will be over soon.

 

They went to a checkpoint where an elderly long-haired woman sat in a rusty booth; in front of the booth, a small kid was rushing back and forth. Batteries, canned goods, tarpaulin, and cartridges were strewn nearby on metal trays of all sizes. It was their turn, and David poured the remnants of the medicine onto the smaller tray and put down the case as well. Max knew that the case would have been enough. The kid who scurried from tray to tray grabbed the items and handed them to the woman. She put the ampoules into one of her numerous waist bags and, squinting, looked with interest at  Max's rifle, wrapped in the jacket on his back. Max jerked his shoulder, slightly unfolding his jacket:

“ It's a trophy."

The woman laughed, exposing a row of metal teeth.

"Sure.”

They moved on, and David whispered in his ear, “Why did you say that ?! It might be suspicious!”

“She didn't believe me. And it's none of her business where I got it and what I will do with it. And it's none of your business, either."

Max didn't want to give the rifle away or sell it: he was secretly proud of how he got it, and he wanted David to be proud of it, too.

 

David held out his hand, smiling excitedly, and Max took it in his own with a simulated reluctance, as if making an indulgence to a shy child. David squeezed his hand tightly in his, and even now, among dozens of other sensations, it was one that blocked everything else — it could be the last one, associated with David.

The market smashed them with streams of speech in various languages, the smells of fried meat, smoke, and gasoline, with rows of booths, tents, stalls of various colors, crowds of people offering food, alcohol, sex, weapons, sometimes all at once. David began to talk with everyone to politely and courteously refuse the offered goods and services, and Max roughly pulled him by his elbow so that David bumped into an old man he was talking to. David chirped a quick “sorry!” and turned to Max, obviously displeased.

"Max, be careful! This is an old man. And he simply wanted to sell me the cloth!"

“'Synthetics' is a drug, idiot. Don't talk to anyone and look straight ahead. Told me you've already been to such places, lied to me, huh?"

 

They spotted the radio tower pretty soon; they walked toward it through the crowd of people, and Max glanced around, literally scanning every corner, everyone he met for a threat. They reached the tower, but at the entrance to the liaison point, there was no familiar black booth with a crossed-out question mark. There stood a dark green tent, a large one; in front of him, a pair of men with machine guns were pacing back and forth.

Max let go of David's hand.

"That's something new. Have they changed the rules?"

But David didn't answer him. He looked at the flag, waving at the entrance to the tent. The flag had the very same symbol he had on his forearm. Max looked at the flag.

“What the hell?”

 

David opened his mouth but said nothing; he looked around, muttering, “I ... I don't know, but how? Have they really..."

He slowly came closer to the patrol; one of the men noticed him and stopped on the spot.

“Nurf,” he called out to the second man, his eyes fixed on David, “call the commander.”

Max came closer and frowned."What's going on?"

David only shrugged in response. A group of people came out of the tent, led by a woman who looked around excitedly. Noticing David, she stopped, and Max easily read the emotions in her gaze: indignation and relief. A little girl in dirty overalls, standing next to her, screeched happily and rushed to David; she hugged his legs. Max looked away from this scene. He was a stranger here.

"Well, go now. Everyone is waiting for you."

But David stood still, biting his lip, and with cautious expectation looked at the woman. She came up to him herself and with all her might slapped him on the head.

 “David, I ... I'll kill you someday, honestly.”

She immediately squeezed him in her arms. The tall man next to her was more restrained, confining himself to patting David on the shoulder, but Max saw that he was no less relieved. Nobody paid any attention to Max; the woman glanced at him briefly and began to examine David from head to toe. She shook his shoulder.

 “Damn it, what happened to you? To the infirmary, now. And I will need explanations, David. Detailed ones. And no more “I don't remember”, I won’t buy this nonsense anymore."

David nodded and, smiling, removed her hand from his shoulder.

 “Okay, Gwen.”

Gwen nodded and went back to the tent. David took a step after her but stopped.

"Oh, just a second!"

He turned, went to Max who was standing a little behind, grabbed his shoulders and quickly kissed him - as if it was a normal thing to do and they were doing it every day when they parted for a short time.

 “I need to sort things out, okay?”

 

His nonchalant look for a moment became questioning, almost pleading, and then he quickly left after Gwen who called him out. Max was standing still, feeling dumb. David didn’t come up with anything smarter than kissing him in front of the people around, in front of his colleagues or whoever they were. He didn't think of anything smarter than to do it now when Max was about to turn around and leave, get lost in the market, and then leave him forever, run away, preferably falling into some deep hole and completely having beaten off his memory of the last week along the way.

 

Max took a step back. He brought David to the spot as he promised. He kept his word. He took another step back, looking at David, Gwen, and others, who almost got lost from view: David was safe, they would take care of him. Max turned and walked away. He needs to get the necessary things and find a job, tonight a couple of convoys will probably come out of the market. He walked faster. It didn’t mean anything. David is an idiot, and he did another idiotic thing, Max would not be surprised if he kisses everyone in a row for no reason.

 

He walked straight, trying to ignore the ringing in his head, the stinging, dreary feeling in his chest, and the burning in his lips. But he was still distracted and therefore did not immediately notice a man standing in his aisle. Max nearly bumped into him; he wanted to go further, but the man stopped him. That close Max could see his face, covered with vile abscesses. Next to him stood a short man with a blindfold on his eye.

“On behalf of the Resistance Committee, I am to detain you for your cooperation with the Alliance.”

Max knocked out the weapon from the hands of the one-eyed man, who was aiming at him.

"I came here with David ten minutes ago, fuck off."

The pimply looked at his friend, grunting on the ground, and narrowed his eyes:

"Resisting to the Resistance Committee, are we? Petrol!"

Out of nowhere, a big guy appeared -  bigger than three of them combined. He wrung Max's arms behind him, taking away his rifle. The shorty rose from the ground, and the pimply said with satisfaction, “You were arrested for assaulting a member of the rebel squad! Billy, handcuffs!"

 Max tried to break free. "Are you nuts or what?! I told you, I came here with your man, morons!"

 

He couldn't do anything when the big guy snapped handcuffs on his wrists and pushed him to the wagons standing a bit away from the street. Nobody paid attention to that. A lot of things were happening in the streets, so calling for help was not only humiliating but also useless. Max simply could not believe it was going on for real.

He was taken to an old bunker, more like a cellar; inside there was a single cell; apparently, the rebel squad couldn't afford anything better.

The big guy pushed Max inside.

 “Billy, fasten him!”

Max laughed when he was handcuffed to a pipe sticking out of a wall.

"Really? Are you so worried I will run away, or is your prison so shitty?"

The pimpled guy laid his hands behind his back and said, “You will stay here until the general meeting. Petrol! You are responsible for him."

 

The hatch closed and Max was left alone in a darkened cellar, lit by a dim lamp. The cellar was shallow, daylight penetrated through the slots of the hatch, the grill did not seem to be a big obstacle either; the only durable thing here were the handcuffs with which Max was chained to the goddamn pipe. Max groaned in despair and cursed. He sighed and sat on the floor. He had to hold his left hand a little over his head, so it was limply hanging on the chain.

Over the past day, he got into the cell twice. Over the past week, he was attacked twice - three times, taking into account today's accident. He was also bitten by a snake, okay, it was his fault, although in another situation he might not have thought of going through the fucking field and stopping at the fucking house. And all this for the same reason, because of the same person. Max leaned his head against the bars: they were damp and cold, but cold metal cooled the brain, which simply melted in the skull from trying to comprehend what was happening.

When will they hold their meeting and what will happen after? In the best case, they will release him when they find out that this is a simple misunderstanding. In the worst case, they will forget about him - or shoot him, tonight. Because, as David feared, any movement sooner or later goes to unnecessary repressions and attempts to express themselves through violence. David himself is unlikely to leave him here - unless, of course, they even told him about what happened to Max. Judging by the woman’s manners, he’s telling her everything in detail right now. Does he have time to even think about Max?

Max closed his eyes and hit the bars with his head, unable to restrain a desperate groan. Anger and fatigue made his eyes sting from tears he tried to hold back. To go through so much, to survive, to betray his principles for only to be put in a fake prison and to be left there, tired, forgotten and humiliated. What is all this, if not mockery? Max bit his lip, chasing away the still tangible kiss. Why did David do this? Did he want to laugh at him, make him look like an idiot? Max jerked his hand, trying the chain. He wanted to run away but didn't have time.

 

Max looked at the hatch, through the slits in which light was breaking through, and as if the sun's rays reached his consciousness too, he realized that David never held him back; it was Max who came back for him, more than once. David whined and wailed, got surprised and resented, but in fact, he didn't _need_ him. He didn’t need him then and certainly doesn’t need him now. Maybe ... maybe he's glad to finally get rid of him. Max remembered his desire to get rid of David. He remembered thinking if he should kill him or not. The thought pierced him as a cold blade. In the readiness to kill, the thought of killing as a possible option was nothing unusual - it became a part of the new world, a new reality. And yet now the awareness of his previous plans flooded him with remorse and filled him with fear, even horror that David still remembers his words and his attitude to him in the early days. That it is _all_ that he remembers and will remember. Well, in this situation, Max earned the finale way worse than this one. The current one was also idiotic, but not the worst. Not as meaningless as others possible. Max thought about this before falling asleep, leaning against the wall of the cell, too tired for thoughts, anger, and attempts to escape.

 

He woke up when he heard the steps at the entrance to the bunker. The rays of light disappeared: it looked like it was evening already. There was a fuss, grunting outside, something heavy fell to the ground, and the hatch opened. Max squinted and saw David; he held a lamp and bags in his hands. He dropped everything on the floor the moment he saw Max.

“Max, I'm so sorry,” he rushed to the cell and began feverishly sorting out the keychain he was holding in his hands, looking for the right key. When the lock clanged, Max got to his feet and silently jerked his hand to show that he was chained to a pipe.

“Honestly, this is stupid,” David rushed inside, looking for another key, “I explained everything to them!”

 He chose one of the small keys and leaned to Max's hand, brushing it with his hair.

 “I brought water and sublimates if you want. And I took a blanket, just in case!"

 “Thank you, I was just about to make a bed.”

 

Relief from seeing David again was replaced by anger and embarrassment for his recent thoughts. He tried not to look at David, bent over at his side. His breath touched Max's hand, and Max instinctively clenched his palms into fists. The reddish light of the lamp illuminated David's face, and Max saw that his eyebrow was patched. Hell, he had managed to shave already.

Max sneered, “I've thought that the rebels had rites in the first place. It turns out that hygiene is more important, huh?"

 David blushed, it was noticeable even in the dark cell.

"Max, I just found out about what happened! It's completely outrageous, Pikeman's just dense, and so is Jasper with his charters, and I was in the infirmary, I went to Gwen, and fell asleep later, I'm sorry for this delay, I ... I understand that you have your things to do!"

 Oh yes. Now he has his things to do. And David has his own, why would he need some kind of garbage like Max now? David tried the third key, and Max jerked his hand.

 "Are you done?”

 “Almost,” Max was sick of his polite tone. “I brought you everything you need. I bought things on the market that you had with you before the arrest. You lost them because of me, you know."

Max gritted his teeth. “How kind of you."

Fuckin' touching. Max clenched his hand when David began to ring the keys again.

“What the fuck are you doing there?!”

"Max, I'm sorry, I'm not doing it on purpose! There are a whole lot of keys here!"

 

Max threw his head back, hitting the grill with it, and moved his hand. David, who had just put the key into the keyhole, dropped it and muttered, “What are you doing?” He lifted the keychain from the ground, re-selecting the required key, and Max felt the malevolent pleasure from seeing him annoyed with this just as he was.

"Let me guess, none of you insurgents can do something right."

David was still meddling with the handcuffs, in the light of the lamp, Max could see his Adam's apple twitch as he leaned closer. Max licked his lips.

"What was that all about?"

"What exactly?"

David's voice was light, almost cheerful, and Max barely restrained himself from hitting him with his free hand.

"You know, what. Your fuckin' kiss".

David did not answer. The right key finally got into the lock, but David tried to turn it.

 “Stand still, please.”

David spoke calmly so that it was impossible even to quibble, and tugging his hand and interfering would have looked just like a childish trick. Max hated him for that. The lock clicked and the handcuff opened. Max rubbed his wrist and looked at David darkly.

"It was a joke, right? You just couldn't let me go, you just had to pull all this bullshit with arrest-"

 “Max, I didn't know,” David pursed his lips, he spoke quietly and seriously, but Max didn't give a damn.

 “Like I believe it,” Max didn’t understand why he continued to stand here when both the cell and the handcuffs no longer held him. “Your fucking friends shoved me in here, after you-”

"I brought you things!" David interrupted him, raising his voice. “I ... I’ve prepared everything, if you want, you can leave now!”

"Yes, I do. I want to leave now. Or do I have something to linger on?"

Max cursed himself for how his mocking voice broke on this ridiculous question. Why did he ask David about this? He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the bars, staring at David.

 

He pressed closer to the bars when David kissed him. He held Max's chin to turn it just right; it was gentle but surprisingly confident. The kiss was calm, but knocked out his whole spirit; Max could not move, he stared at David, stunned when he slightly moved away and looked inquiringly into Max's eyes, running a thumb over his jaw. Max wanted more; he couldn’t say it, but David understood it himself. Triumph flashed in his eyes, and he leaned toward Max again, opening his lips with his own. His confidence quickly turned into self-confidence: he pressed Max to the grate, holding him by the shoulders, hitting him with his knees, just pissing him off with how tender and nice he was, how it all made Max's legs tremble. It was getting too much, it was too much, and Max twitched, breaking their kiss. David drew back, removing a hand from his face.

"Leave, if you want."

He spoke in almost a whisper. He understood everything in his own way. Wrong-way.

 

Max stood still for a few seconds. He slowly bit his lower, then upper lip, checking the reality of taste and sensations. Wow, it happened for real, he wasn't dreaming. He looked at David who kept his gaze on the floor. Inside Max's head, it was sparkling again, just like it was in the van, and he felt delirious just like after the snake's bite.

"You bring a lot of trouble, you know?"

The words rolled off the tongue, lightly and maliciously. David looked at him, sad and almost scared. 

Max frowned slightly but continued, “You're spoiling everything.”

Max approached him, and David began to back away, clasping his hands to his chest. Max stepped closer, not paying attention to his “me? ..” and “I'm sorry ...” He stepped on him until David hit his back against the opposite wall. Max grabbed his wrists slowly, enjoying the moment, and pressed them to the bars behind his head. He was always annoyed with their height difference, but David was so compliant that now it meant nothing. David looked at him expectantly, his lips parted just a little. Max buried his face into his neck to nip on it, smiling when David’s breath quickened even more, and grabbed his hair with one hand, bending him lower toward him. He rubbed his cheek with his dirty and unshaven one and then kissed him in his way - without restraint and delicacy, immediately slipping his tongue into his mouth. The way David was malleable, how quickly he relaxed into their kiss, blew Max's mind. Max let go of his wrists and put his arms around his shoulders, clutching him closer so as not to miss a single barely audible moan and sigh. He tasted the faint taste of the tooth powder that David made from ash and something else; Max always laughed at him because of this. The taste was not pleasant or unpleasant, but the very possibility of feeling it was something delicious. As well as the opportunity to bite David's lower lip so that he quietly sobbed without any attempt to pull away. It was priceless. They kissed, touching each other's noses and sometimes clashing their teeth, and for some reason, it wasn't irritating; David was annoying, but Max wasn't annoyed with the way he trembled and lowered his hand from his back lower, to his lower back, and drew Max closer. Max shuddered when he leaned over and bit his earlobe. He was sweating, but his throat went dry when David took his hand in his and put it onto his hip. Max looked at him: David's breath was shallow, and his eyes were sparkling with excitement.

"I...”

David stopped here, but Max understood everything he wanted to say. It seemed they managed to communicate without words quite well. David squeezed his hand inquiringly, and for Max this intimacy was breathtaking. Max could not say a word, he hesitantly touched his hips, touched his belt with his fingers. He couldn't even manage to ask a simple “Here?” or “Now?”, he just watched as David put one hand in the pocket of his trousers and pulled a tiny bag out of there. He put it in Max's palm, and Max squeezed it, grinning.

“Fuck, I would never think you keep these sort of things in your pockets.”

"Now, Max! I ... I only sometimes, okay? Sometimes!”

David blushed, looking indignant, but Max saw that the jab had relaxed him a bit. He guessed what the matter was. He unfastened David's belt and slid a hand under his shirt, running a palm over his back; he smiled in his shoulder, pressing his lips to it for a second; he continued to unfasten his belt while David was unfastening his.

 

David half-hugged him with one leg, clutching the bars behind with his hands; Max grabbed him under the knee, holding onto the bars of the cell as well. They could only hope the thing was durable. It was inconvenient, and they were in a hurry with all the preparation, but eventually, it all worked out; David exhaled with a groan when Max slowly entered him and, holding back from a sharp jolt, leaned his forehead against his shoulder. Luckily, their bodies were more than trained for such an awkward position, and Max could enjoy the way they adapted to each other, and their muscles tightened to change the angle. He tried his best to move slowly, but he wasn't able to do so for a long time: David was making damn good noises and was shaking with his whole body. He unhooked one hand from the grill and ran it through Max's hair, stroking his neck, pulling him closer. The grill creaked, once, twice, and then began to gently pound on the concrete floor. David also didn't get quieter, and Max didn't fall far behind. They did not hold back, they didn't need to. Someone could hear them on the outside, the cell could fall apart any moment — these thoughts meant nothing, they were just funny; everything was so amazing, they met each other's lips when they could. Finally, Max buried his face in David's neck, he was moving sharper and faster now, pressing him harder into the bars. David tensed, and Max tightened his grip on David's thigh, digging his nails in it, and bit the skin of his neck with a satisfied moan. He quickly lowered his hand to help David. David came with a moan, almost scream the moment Max took him in his hand and gave him a few pumps. 

 

Max stopped all the movements and closed his eyes, trying to recover, listening to their breaths. He never thought that one could experience this in the dirty basement, in this world, anywhere. David put his hands on his shoulders, and they almost fell back, holding onto each other and laughing. David lowered his leg and leaned against the bars, lazily hugging Max and nosing his forehead and hair. They disengaged, untangled, and Max searched for the bag David had brought.

 “Where are your blanket and stuff?”

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

David put the leftover canned food in his bag and sat on the blanket next to Max, wincing. Max threw aside a wet rag he wiped his face and neck with and drank more water from the flask. He handed the flask to David and covered his eyes, buzzing with everything together, including a warm body next to his own.

"When are you leaving?"

Max opened his eyes and looked at the floor in front of him. He tiredly went over all the logical reasons why he had to stay until the next morning.

 “You will have problems if I leave, right?”

 “Not more than usual.”

Max turned his head to look at him: David was smiling sadly; his hair was disheveled. They fell on his forehead and this way he looked more vulnerable. Max had learned long ago that this impression of vulnerability was misleading, but now David was just this: he was vulnerable and yet bold enough not to hide his insecurity and his feelings. Max looked away, feeling like a coward.

 “I will wait for your meeting, or whatever it is ... I don't want you to have any trouble because of me.”

The barely noticeable movement of David's shoulder and his exhale let him know that David was relieved.

"Oh.. okay. Thank you. I mean, I'm glad."

David muttered something else but Max didn't listen to it. He wanted to assure David of something, he wanted to ask him something very personal and, of course, he wanted to send him to a place more comfortable than this hole for the night. He did not have time to do any of this: he dropped his head on David's shoulder and fell asleep.

 

 

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to everyone still reading this story. You guys mean a lot to me.


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